Changes
by BiJane
Summary: Temporal flux detected at Hogwarts: Doctor goes to see, and finds out things are going very, very differently to how they should. Set in first book.
1. The Sorting

**Doctor Who and Harry Potter. The first being my favourite TV show, the second being my favourite books that I can do a good crossover for. I like the story.  
Note: if there are any pairings you want to add, just say. This is one of the things I write more for the story than the pairings. I was thinking about a Harry/Draco (you'll see), but if there are any objections, let me know.  
I don't know if I'll continue this or not, it is an odd idea, but I am just generally odd. **

**The 11th doctor enters Hogwarts. Things go...differently.**

"What is it, old girl?" the Doctor crooned softly, running a hand down a pillar as the TARDIS made an odd groaning sound. He brushed his long, tousled hair aside with a finger, to get a clearer sight of the screen. "Can't be anything too big, ooh, temporal flux, been a while since we've had one of those, and it's… Earth, oh it's always Earth, humans," he muttered the name like a curse, before grinning, "Bit like me actually. Oh, bit more detail, good, good-" his mumbled rant stopped as he stared at the screen, before he finished with an appalled "_No!_"

"That doesn't sound good, Doctor!" Amy called out from one of the side rooms, before skipping out into the console chamber

"It's not," the Doctor shot back, walking around and using his hands to manipulate the console, while keeping his head completely still, eyes fixed on the screen. "Got to land, find the anomaly."

"Where this time?" Amy skipped over to just behind the frantic Time Lord

"Hogwarts," the Doctor replied, pronouncing the word like he expected to be disbelieved

"Huh? Hogwarts as in Harry Potter?" Amy frowned, excited

"No, Hogwarts as in Dirk Gently, of course Harry Potter!"

"That's just fiction…isn't it?"

"Nah," the Doctor shook his head, "Words have power, temporal echoes of our good friend Mr Potter's life fed into JK's mind."

"No way, so we're going to meet Dumbledore?"

"Ah, no, you're not going."

"Come on Doctor!"

"There's a massively, hugely dangerous temporal flux in his first year at Hogwarts, no idea what caused it, but we can't raise suspicion unless we want it to happen again. Not much call for adult Scottish girls in Hogwarts."

"So what're you gonna do?" Amy challenged, crossing her arms and resting them on the console.

"First year, I understand they're missing a teacher," the Doctor grinned, flashing the psychic paper.

O

"Be back in a sec," the Doctor waved, stepping into the TARDIS, "Or a day, you know how things can be," he waved, leaving Amy, and a certain Mr Pond, in a field somewhere. He wasn't completely certain where, not that he'd tell her that.

"Doctor!" Amy ran up, about to bang on the TARDIS door-she hadn't banked on waiting years again. Instead, her hands passed straight through the air as the time machine vanished.

O

"Sorry Quirrell," the Doctor straightened his bow tie, muttering, as he stepped into the daunting castle, sonic screwdriver at his side, contained in a slightly thick, willow wand. He just hoped he'd get the job.

O

The Hogwarts Express. It trundled along the tracks, containing lots of humans, as normal, and one Time Lord.

"I must say," McGonagall remarked, "That is a most interesting wand you carry, Mr…"

"Doctor," he replied, "Willow with, ah, Leadworth core."

"Leadworth?" the Professor frowned

"Yes, it's very…rare, very magic, um, want a cauldron cake?" the Doctor bounced up, trying to escape the conversation as the sweets trolley came by. He reached into a pocket, taking a jangling few coins out, which he'd taken from Gringotts by means of his psychic paper. Before he could buy anything however, Dumbledore walked down the corridor.

"Excuse me," the elderly head-teacher nodded, "I have a matter of grave importance to discuss."

"Headmaster," McGonagall bowed her head slightly to allow the bearded wizard into the compartment.

"Thank you," Dumbledore spoke politely, "You are the first teachers I have told of this. This year, at Hogwarts, we have been charged with the protection of the Philosopher's Stone."

"Headmaster, is that wise? Considering who's starting here, just today-"

"I am well aware of the risks Minerva. However, it is a far greater risk to leave it in the outside world. That is why I am asking all of our teachers to create some form of defence, so no students nor unwanted visitors may find the stone."

That instant, there was a cry as, at the other end of the carriage, one teacher forced a checkmate with another, a Knight staring down a King on a chessboard.

"Headmaster," Minerva began, "Will that be enough?"  
"Rest assured, I will add my own, ah, quirks to the proceedings. I hope this will not prove too much of a challenge for our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Doctor?"

"No, no," the Doctor shook his head, "You don't have to worry Dumbledore," he grinned, "I can think of a few things."  
"Good," the headmaster nodded, eyes twinkling at the Doctor's almost infectious happiness, "Now if you'll excuse me, I must talk with the others."

O

The Doctor leant back, flicking through a 56th century edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone as the train neared Hogwarts. He had refused to wear robes, and instead was garbed in his normal suit and bow tie.

"I though Professor Quirrell was supposed to be taking this job," a cold, sneering voice alerted the Doctor. He waited a few seconds, flicking through the book and finishing it, before looking up to see Snape.

"Severus, is it?" the Doctor grinned, in contrast to the expression of dislike on the wizard's face. "There was some confusion, old Quirinus forgot he had the job, and moved away. Luckily, you've got me instead!"

"Are you always this…lucky," Snape's nasal tones did nothing to dampen the Doctor's spirits.

"Not often," the Doctor quickly hid his book as Severus moved closer, "But you know what they say"

"No."

"Me neither," the Doctor slumped a little. "You hear who's joining this year? Harry Potter!"

"He is just another student. Give him no special treatment," Snape pronounced the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Wasn't going t," the Doctor shook his head, "He's got his mother's eyes you know."

"You knew Lily and James Potter?" Snape pursed his lips

"Only by reputation," the Doctor hastily covered his tracks. It wouldn't do to sound too suspicious.

Severus Snape left the carriage, irritated by the Doctor's optimism. Shrugging, the Doctor took out another book from his pocket; the second Harry Potter book. Knowing a little background never hurt; especially when something was disturbing the time streams, centred at where he was heading.

O

"Who's that one?" the young Harry Potter pointed up at the teacher's table.

"That, oh that's-" a red haired Ron frowned, "Hang on, never seen him before."

"That would be the Doctor," a ghost slid out of the wall, "The latest replacement."

"I thought," Harry paused to remember the skittish man in the Leaky Cauldron, "Quirrell was teaching here?"

"Oh, he was," the ghost, Nearly Headless Nick, said, "But he never turned up. The Doctor took his place."

"Who's that one with the long black hair?" Harry frowned again, pointing once more to the table

"That's Snape," Ron whispered, "Blimey, he does look cheesed off, huh?"

"Students!" Minerva McGonagall called the line of first years down the hall, trying to inject some order into the line that went down between two tables full of the older years.

O

"Boot, Terry!"

The Doctor ignored the cry of the professor, as the Sorting Hat continued its task. Instead, the Time Lord was holding his 'wand' beneath the table, clicking the sonic screwdriver within it. Technically electricity shouldn't work here, but he'd changed a couple of settings on the screwdriver to power it with the magic in the air.

The centre of the willow wand shimmered blue, while his trouser legs muffled the buzzing.

It was supposed to detect whatever was causing the temporal anomaly. This wasn't supposed to take that long; not that there was a time limit; he thought briefly of Amy and Rory, before deciding that the TARDIS was behaving, so he could get back seconds after he left them. He hoped.

Still nothing. The Doctor frowned; had he arrived before the temporal flux had begun? Time travel was always confusing.

"Potter, Harry!"

His ears perked up as the name was called: didn't want to miss this. The hat was placed on the youth's head. A long few moments passed, some kind of murmuring occurring around the young wizard.

All the hairs on the back of the Doctor's neck stood on end.

The hat seemed to mull something over quietly after ten or so seconds. Harry seemed to whisper something, and that appeared to be the key. A moment later, the hat declared, "Slytherin!"

Harry Potter, smiling, went over to the surprised, and yet cheering table.

The Doctor blinked: _that _hadn't happened in the book.


	2. Bonds

**First off, to those who read my other stories, this won't distract me from Awakening, i just had the idea for this one and had to write it. Next update for Changes might be a little while-Awakening should be next-but hopefully you won't suffer too much. :)  
Pairings might not be overly explicit, sorry of that puts any of you off, but these are still first years.  
I've got a pretty strong idea of where this is headed, so keep an eye out for loose ends. You never know...  
Finally, thanks are due to Toxicsnake91 who unknowingly inspired the end of the first chapter. Read his story 'Snake Vercetti's Hogwarts' if you have the time. **

Well, this wasn't going too well; the Doctor's first lesson was soon, but he hadn't planned to stay here that long, he just wanted to find and fix the anomaly, then get out. With any luck, his venture would probably be erased from time, it normally seemed to happen.

Instead, he was expected to teach a class, when he didn't even have a proper wand. He didn't even know the tiniest bit of magic; he couldn't even use magic!

Muttering, he skimmed through the novel, checking the incantations he was meant to teach. Too soon for Impedimenta? Probably. Well, he didn't normally have a plan, what was new? Maybe he could try and take Divination instead. He could be pretty accurate about the future.

"No, no, no," he mumbled, pacing from wall to wall. He'd found the thing that was disturbing time; Harry in Slytherin, how had that happened? But how to fix it? There was something interfering, that much was obvious, but what?

Well, it would be possible to find that out soon, Slytherin was arriving for its first lesson in just a couple of minutes, first years. The older years had the first day off while the newcomers got used to the lessons.

Could he borrow the basilisk from the Chamber of Secrets? The Doctor mused, would make for an interesting lesson, TARDIS translators might work as parseltongue. Then again, maybe not. Wouldn't be the safest lesson. And these were still first years. "Come on JK," the Doctor muttered, "Why'd you only talk about the second year spells?"

The class began to line up the other side of the door. Time was up.

He'd been a teacher before, the Doctor reflected, though that time there were Krillitanes. And this time there was magic. The Doctor grinned.

"Come in, come in!" he gestured, pushing the door open, "This is Defence Against the Dark Arts, come on in, oy, you! No pushing. That goes for you Crabbe, yes I know your name," the Doctor crouched down, making his voice sound like a putting teenager, "Now get to your seat!" he stood back up again, "You all in? Good, Now we-"

The Doctor paused as he surveyed the class. Slytherin was an unpleasant looking rabble, true, and most of the students were sending him glares. He was used to those though, only one thing had caught him off guard. Four chairs, the whole of the middle row of desks, at the front of the class, were occupied by four people, as expected. Crabbe and Goyle sat on the outer sides, while in the middle, a duo were animatedly talking. Draco Malfoy and harry Potter, both smiling, and the latter's lightning scar appearing occasionally out of the mop of hair.

"Now, you two…" the Doctor's voice cracked a little, weaker. Some of the class frowned at his sudden change in tone, "Quiet."

After a blink, and a sad frown, the Doctor strode to the front of the class, spinning his screwdriver-wand in his hand.

"So, this is Defence Against the Dark Arts, a class for, well, Defence Against the Dark Arts," he spoke quickly, "You'll learn a lot of things, not the least being things never, ever," his voice shook slightly, "_Ever _go as you expect them. Now…"

The Doctor paused as he tried to think of a subject. Luckily, he was saved by a voice coming out the corridor: Minerva McGonagall.

"All students, back to their common rooms!" the witch walked into the classroom, robes billowing, "Ah, Doctor, there you are. The headmaster has summoned you as our-" she stopped, "Children?" she sounded as if she snapping, "Back to your common rooms!"

Slytherin hastily packed, to a silent cry of joy from the Doctor; hopefully he'd be able to read the syllabus sometime. He didn't like instructions like that, but maybe he could make an exception. This time.

"Doctor," Minerva continued, calmer, as the last of the class left, "The headmaster requests your presence in the trophy room, as our local expert in the Dark Arts."

"Why?" the Doctor was suddenly serious, "Has something happened?"

"That's for you to tell us," Minerva's wavering voice replied curtly, before she turned and left the Doctor where she was.

"Trophy room, trophy room," the Doctor muttered, "That's on the Third Floor. Just near," his eyes widened, "The Stone!"

O

"Did you see him?" Draco laughed, "Shell-shocked, I'm telling ya, this place is going to the dogs. Just wait until my father hears about _this_, an idiot teaching me?" his drawling, superior voice elicited laughs from Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry.

"You three go back to the common room," Harry eventually spoke, timid voice sounding resolute

"What is it Potter?" Draco turned, patting the black haired boy on the back, "Crabbe, Goyle, you two head back," he barely looked up as he commanded the duo.

"I saw something," Harry lifted one hand, eyes wide through his broken glasses; "down there."

"What is it?" Draco spoke, though he didn't ask anyone in particular; he just headed a little way down the corridor, opening the door Harry pointed to.

A few seconds later, and he stepped into the room.

Harry waited outside, hands in pockets, frowning.

"Nah, it's nothing," Draco swaggered out of the room, drawling, "Just a couple of relics." He spoke scornfully as he began to walk back to the Slytherin common room, Harry in tow.

O

The Doctor knelt down in the centre of the trophy room, screwdriver-wand at his side. A huge, disfigured chunk of stone lay discarded on the floor, a mutilated rock, roughly cylindrical; but very roughly. There was nothing smooth on it, only coarse bumps and ridges, scars and cracks all over it.

"Lumos," he muttered, smiling to himself as the blue tip of the screwdriver illuminated his wand, and a buzzing filled the room.

"I'm not familiar with this spell," Snape spoke sneeringly, one of the many teachers around the outside of the room.

"What, Lumos?" the Doctor grinned, still facing the stone

"The use of Lumos as scanning spell."

"You wouldn't be," was the Doctor's only reply.

This stone couldn't and shouldn't be here; that was what Minerva had said as he'd been taken to the room. Not only had it breached Hogwarts' security, but the fact it had just been left here showed someone had easy access to Hogwarts.

"Are you more than just a stone?" the Doctor whispered as the screwdriver detected an alarming amount of temporal energy built up in the rock.

Still no closer to an answer, he stepped back and stood up, looking around at the teachers, even the glaring Snape. The Time Lord still hadn't so much as touched the stone.

"It's a rock," he announced grandly

"We _know _that," Snape's voice drawled, impatient, finishing the sentence with a lash of his tongue, "How did it get here?"

"Someone put it here," the Doctor shrugged, "But it's not the Dark Arts, I can tell you that much."

"Not the Dark Arts?" Minerva spoke, voice trembling more with tone than fear

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but Hogwarts is protected from all magical incursions, right? Can't be anything like that, so it has to be something else, so, not the Dark Arts."

"What then?" Snape's lip curled downwards

"That I don't know," the Doctor conceded, "But we should take the stone somewhere else, somewhere safer."

"You said it was just a rock," Snape's eyes narrowed

"Ah, no, I said it was _a _rock, not _just_ a rock, now if you'll excuse me, I have a class to teach."

With that, the Doctor darted away, leaving the conversation incomplete, Snape not even turning, just standing still, untrusting.

O

"Do it again!" voices were coming out of a huddle of Slytherin students.

The green-tipped robed children were in the corner of a courtyard, egging something on. In the centre of the group, Draco stood, wand at his side, with a grinning Harry just opposite. In a theatrical manner, Draco raised his wand, curling it over his head as if it were a rapier.

With a motion, like bowling a ball, he rolled his arm, lightning fast, before jabbing the wand forwards, with a "_Serpensortia!_"

A long, black snake shot out of the tip of his wand, landing with a smoky thud on the ground. It uncoiled, swaying gently as its head rose, hissing at the students around it. They backed away, save for Harry, who stood very near.

A strangled, hissing noise came from the black haired child's mouth, a guttural, almost-whisper. There was a sudden silence, a cut from the excited babble of the Slytherin students. Only Harry's snakelike voice pierced the air.

Slowly, almost hypnotizing, the snake turned, facing Harry. The forked tongue flicked forwards.

None of the kids understood a word of the parseltongue Harry was speaking; but the effect was impressive enough; the fearful serpent, controlled by words from a first year's lips.

A scattering of shocked applause ran through the crowd, none quite sure what to think. The Boy Who Lived; vanquisher of Voldemort, no only in Slytherin, but possessing the gift that symbolized the house.

Sharing a smile with Harry, Draco stepped forward and flourished his wand, vanishing the snake.

"A parselmouth," Draco sheathed his wand, "Full of surprises, aren't you Potter?" he reached out, shaking hands with the black haired child. "Nice job."


	3. Midnight Meeting

**Enjoy!  
The end of this chapter was one of the moments in this story that really gave me the idea for it: there are several moments in the tale which I'd thought of, before I knew where it was going. I do know where this is going now however, and you'll see later!  
If you're enjoying yourself,please review, even if just an emoticon!**

Harry and Draco sat next to each other, just by the front of the class. The Doctor paced down an aisle, talking about spells he'd learnt just seconds ago from the syllabus. He did the best he could with the sonic screwdriver; breaking a bit of glass, lightning a couple of candles, and sometimes red sparks; which were just little fireworks he'd taken from the TARDIS.

"What's that key he always carries?" Draco muttered across to Harry.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. A moment later, he cracked a smile at Draco, "Want to find out?"

"`Course," Draco nodded, picking up on what Harry meant. Quiet, he drew his wand out from in his robes and, pointing it at the Doctor's desk, just in front of them, and the fez that rested on it, whispered; "_Incendio._"

The Doctor was suddenly drawn out of his speech as fire started to flicker across the desk. Alarmed, he ran down an aisle, towards the desk, not even feeling a black haired boy's nimble hands delve into his pocket.

"No, no, no," the Doctor muttered to himself, making moves in both the left and right direction, and consequently just shaking on the spot, "Not the fez again! I have to-" he stopped talking, words moving to the quicker medium of thought. With a cry of "ah ha!" he pointed his 'wand' across the classroom, and with a buzz, exploded the tap that was set in the wall. Moving back again, still quick, he filled lots of cups with water, and, before too much of the desk was alight, poured the liquid on it, dousing most of the flames. One cup later, the desk was sodden, but not aflame. Relieved, he flicked his screwdriver out and turned off the torrent pouring out of the tap.

"Where'd you learn that spell?" Harry whispered across to Draco, eyes burning almost as brightly as the fire

"A friend taught me," satisfied, Draco responded, putting his wand away, "I know more than that blustering fool. Remember that lesson with Flitwick? He charmed water out of his wand, I mean this guy's an idiot but he should be able to do that."

"I guess," Harry shrugged

"You get it, anyway?"

"Of course," Harry grinned again, opening his palm to reveal a small, silver key he'd pick-pocketed from the Doctor. "Wonder what it does."

"Keep it with you. Only way to find out."

Harry pocketed the key, before turning back to the lesson, looking at the Doctor, who was babbling about some knockback jinx. Bored, he looked away again.

"You're a natural," Draco muttered, "Always been that good at picking pockets?"

"Yes," Harry nodded, "Some things I've always been able to do…even before I had magic. I set a snake on my cousin once, would've bitten him if the zookeeper wasn't there. They didn't punish me when we got back though, they didn't dare. I can make them _hurt_." A savage glint passed through Harry's eyes, even enough to make Draco recoil somewhat.

"Hey, watch it!" the Doctor interrupted their conversation with a flourish of his long wand, "Stop the chatting! Now, can either of you two tell me the correct incantation? Harry?"

"Flipendo." Harry replied, voice turned to a dull monotone, much less bestial than it had been just seconds ago.

"Correct," the Doctor nodded, seemingly slightly put-out, before he resumed his expressive monologue.

Most of the students had expected any long speech to be a bit dull; it was in any other class. Yet somehow the Doctor had captured their interest, he was really good with words, and each gesture he made was on the fine line between eccentric and useful. Some of them might even say they enjoyed his lessons, which explained the shared sigh as the lesson ended.

"Right, you lot, go!" the doctor stopped mid-sentence to dismiss them, waving them off with his hands, "Next lesson we'll be practising, homework is to read up on the jinx!"

As the last person left the room, the Doctor looked the door with a click of his screwdriver.

Lesson planning had taken a minute; a little time to flick through the syllabus, which he'd memorized, and a bit more to come up with ideas. The rest of the minute had been spent nipping down to the house elves in the kitchen for a biscuit. In about ten minutes the second years would arrive; they were expecting a boggart apparently, and luckily Filch had mentioned one clanking around the dungeons.

O

The Doctor held his sonic screwdriver by his side, more out of a sense of comfort than any practical benefit. He stalked forward: the boggart was around these room. The normal wizard way was some spell or other, but, as he had a distinct lack of those, he'd have to improvise. What's new?

A wooden chest rested the opposite end of the room; with any luck, that's where the boggart would end up. He'd free it soon after the lesson though, he wasn't completely heartless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a shadow move along the wall. There! He pocketed his wand; he wouldn't need it for this.

"Sorry about this," he mumbled to himself, walking across the room.

The shadow seemed to ripple, and just then, the perfect likeness of a Dalek glided out from the darkness. It grated the customary "Exterminate," lights flashing. The Doctor locked eyes with it, matching the lone blue orb with a solid glare.

A ripple passed over the red and black, increasing its height and turning it greyer. A snarling angel statue was formed in front of him, soulless grey eyes glaring. The Doctor stared straight back, just below its eyes. Another ripple, and a likeness of the Master stood there. The Doctor raised his eyebrows, examining the design the same way an artist might critique a painting.

The boggart transformed, becoming spherical, and increasingly bright. A star, a Sun somewhere. Despite the brightness, the Doctor just glared, stepping forwards, towards the creature. It moved back a tiny, unnoticeable way, towards the wooden chest.

A man of steel made a thudding step, replaced by another human, black runes drawn over his skin, and red eyes glaring. The Doctor glared, not even blinking as he watched the boggart. Instead of fear being given to him, he'd turned the tables, delivering fear back in return. A Sontaran, a faceless creature with yellow, crooked teeth, garbed in a black satin cloak. An elderly, blonde woman glaring back with an identical glare.

"Not impressed," he spoke, pushing the boggart back to just a few steps from the chest with the force of eye contact alone.

"Not impressed," the woman repeated, identical tone, identical gesticulation, though somehow mocking.

The boggart shrank to a small stone hand, one that lay poised on the floor as if about to jump. Then it grew to a furry, tall, horned creature, similar to a human. Form after form, all ones the Doctor recognized.

"I've seen things worse than even your nightmares," the Doctor said, words calm, yet forceful, "Don't even try and scare me."

The boggart backed to just by the chest. It took on one last form; creating a mirror image of the Doctor himself. The real Time Lord stumbled slightly at this, more by surprise than anything, but still, his eyes burned. In an attempt to escape the glare, the boggart stepped back, falling into the form of a small, robotic creature, a cybernetic roll with tiny bug-like eyes and antennae.

The Doctor slammed the door of the chest down, sealing the boggart within. "Sorry about this," he murmured, hefting the chest up with his two arms, flicking the lock to seal it.

He didn't notice a bolt of blue light shoot from outside the room, knocking his wand out of his pocket, but making it hover, preventing any noise.

As the Doctor left the room, another entered, a man with long, greasy black hair. Snape picked up the wand from where he'd left it, in midair.

Lifting the disguised sonic screwdriver, he raised it, cautious, "_Prior incantato,_" he spoke the words with a sneer.

Nothing happened.

Frowning, he waved the wand again, repeating the spell. The same happened.

"Interesting," Snape murmured thoughtfully. He pocketed the wand, intending to follow and return it to the Doctor. The same Doctor who had fought a boggart with nothing but willpower. Yes, there were some questions to be asked. Snape contorted his face in an unnatural smile, thinking. There were some solutions to the new teacher's mysterious nature. One of which was brewing right that instant.

O

"We shouldn't be out this late," Harry murmured, looking around the corridors at night.

"Scared, Potter?" Draco looked back from where he stood, right in the centre of the deserted place

"No," Harry shook his head simply, "Just hoping we know where we're going."

Draco grunted to himself, before leading Harry again down the corridor.

It was very late; night, and most of the others should be in bed, including most teachers. Still, Draco had insisted they go through the corridors, though he didn't really say why.

Footsteps.

Harry pulled back on Draco's wrist, gesturing for him to be quiet. The footsteps again echoed. An expression of worry passed over the blonde boy's face, before he moved sideways, stepping along quickly until he reached a wooden door. He moved along to it and muttered a spell unheard by Harry, making the lock click open.

"Filch!" Harry whispered urgently to Draco, seeing the caretaker's cat walk proudly along the floor.

In response, he was yanked into the small room to the side. He faced Draco, pressed to the opposite wall. They didn't shut the door, to keep it quiet.

Filch's footsteps continued outside, getting gradually louder. The students looked at each other. Draco had the calmer, proud expression, though his eyes were flickering all around, the only real sign of worry. Harry, though he'd acted more afraid, was more secure, more solid, waiting.

The steps stopped, just when they'd sounded deafening; how close was Filch? Too close was the only real answer.

The door was pushed forwards. A craggy face peered through.

"Run!" Draco shouted, surprising Harry by delivering a punch to Filch's face. He wasn't surprised by the violence as such, more the crude means of it.

The duo darted out the door, past a still reeling Filch. The caretaker turned, lifted a lantern to see the indistinct backs of two young students. Unable to easily identify them in the darkness, he gave chase.

They ran through the corridor, past suits of armour, statues and portraits, until they reached the Great Staircase. Risking a look back, Draco saw Filch was still following.

"Up here!" Draco pulled on Harry's sleeve, starting up a flight of stairs that had only just turned to face them.

Filch moved into the huge hall containing the staircase. He looked around, eager to find his victims, before catching sight of them, halfway up the stairs to the third floor.

"Come `ere," he grumbled, starting up the steps.

"Split up!" Harry suggested, panting a little, yet surprisingly thrilled

"Nice plan Potter!" Draco nodded appreciatively, "You go through there, _Alohamora!_" Draco opened a thick wooden door just to their right, before taking off to the left.

With a look flung back at the approaching caretaker, the black haired boy entered the previously locked room. The instant he entered, he knew he'd made a mistake; outside, even this late at night, there was still some noise, still some atmosphere. Portraits snoring, whispering, ghosts gossiping, or as the case may be, more students snuck out for mischief or a midnight snack.

In here, it felt silent oppressive. No sense of life, like outside. Just a noise, a deep growling.

Harry looked up, to see three snarling dogs. No, one dog, three heads. Or rather, three giant heads, and one giant dog. He froze.

Urgent, he tried the doorknob behind him. No good; it'd locked itself. What was that spell Draco used? Harry wished he could remember.

A long drop of drool fell from the dog's central jaw.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Harry heard a voice from the opposite side of the room. He looked through, fearing the worst.  
The Doctor paced down the length of the room, seemingly unaffected by the giant, snarling, three-headed dog just next to him.

"Sir? I, uh-" Harry's eyes kept darting to the dog

"You? Oh, the dog? Don't mind Fluffy," the Doctor grinned like a kid, turning to the animal, "She's not that bad," he crooned, "Who's a good dog? Who's a clever dog?" he reached up, stretching his arm up as far as he could to tickle 'Fluffy's' left neck. He spoke like he was talking to a baby.

Surprisingly, the fierce dog curled into the scratch, barking contentedly.

"TARDIS translators," the Doctor muttered offhand, still scratching, "Work for animals to- but that's not the point, you shouldn't be here."

H stomped up to Harry, locking eyes with the black haired boy.

"Neither should I technically," the Doctor gave a guilty whisper, "I won't tell if you don't."

"Thanks sir," Harry grinned, relieved.

"Good," the Doctor nodded, "_Alohamora_," he pointed his wand at the locked door, opening it with a buzz of the sonic screwdriver.


	4. Recovering

**More Harry mystery this chapter. Hope you enjoy!  
For a random bit of trivia: the actor who plays Dudley Dursley in the Harry Potter movies is the grandson of Patrick Troughton, who played the Second Doctor in Doctor Who. According to Wikipedia.  
Anyway, moving on, enjoy! Please review. **

The Doctor flicked through the seventh Harry Potter book yet again, finishing it and putting it down. He always enjoyed reading them, and while he was here, he looked forward to looking up some of the secrets. He'd snuck into the Chamber of Secrets (TARDIS translators acted as satisfactory parseltongue), found the Room of Requirement (lots of party tricks there, probably to help him with his classes), and after a little practise, found the way through to Honeydukes, through the secret passage in a statue.

Double checking, he span his wand. Severus Snape has brought it back a while ago, and the Doctor didn't like other people getting hold of his screwdriver. Even if they didn't know it was a screwdriver. He buzzed it, grinning giddily as a candle on his desk lit. It took him a moment to realize he had no way to put it out, and another few to run over to the other end of the room and hastily dunk the candle under a tap.

The main problem he had with Hogwarts was that there was so little to do; when there were no lessons on, and he'd memorized his schedule for the rest of the year, what was there to do, with so little connection to the wizarding world.

Ah well, he was here for a reason. That temporal anomaly; he hadn't been in the TARDIS for a while, but last time he had been, the anomaly was growing. Something was in Hogwarts that shouldn't be, and with so many crucial events centred around the castle, even the slightest deviation could prove catastrophic. Harry was in Slytherin; that was a pain, but hopefully could be redeemed. The First Year was less key than the later ones. The Second Year: the diary, Dobby, and the sword. So many important things there.

It was a risk being here, but so long as things could be fixed before the end of the year, the anomaly should go down to manageable standards.

Pushing the chair back, the Doctor strode out of the room, the mostly empty halls, during class, lay before him. He clicked the sonic to react to any temporal anomalies. Ready.

Keeping the implement ahead of him, he paced slowly through the corridors, receiving strange looks from a lot of portraits. The wand remained quiet and dim, save for the occasional erratic noise, background radiation more than anything.

Suddenly, the sonic vibrated so much it almost leapt out of the Doctor's hand. He let out a quick breath, hastily reaching for it as it fell to the floor. He caught it after several attempts, re-raising it, focused now.

The screwdriver was kept steady a sit emitted an eerie blue glow. Carefully, the Doctor stepped forwards, waving his wand gracefully around. Following the noise, he found himself just outside the hospital wing.

Footsteps. Quickly, he silenced the screwdriver, just as Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape walked into view. Behind them, they were levitating a student. It took the Doctor a moment to identify the murmuring, tossing, turning child. Draco Malfoy.

"What has happened to the by?" Minerva continued the conversation the teachers had been having, speaking to Severus

"If I knew that, I would not need to bring him here," the black haired wizard replied, clearly irked

"This is powerful magic," Dumbledore murmured, waving his wand over the boy's shaking frame.

"Ah, that'd _if _it is magic," the Doctor strode across the hall, joining the conversation. McGonagall looked surprised, Snape looked irritated. Dumbledore's face betrayed no emotion, though he acted somewhat glad to see the Time Lord. "You can do a lot without wand work."

"You have a theory?" Snape phrased it like a question. He sounded more sneering.

"Well," the Doctor paused, "No, but I haven't seen him yet, have I? Ooh, that was rude, thought I left that behind on…" his voice drifted off, before he cleared his throat, "Anyway…"

The Doctor leant over the levitating Draco. He didn't so much seem to be in pain, as having a nightmare. His skin was paler than normal, but other than that, he appeared normal, asleep. Indistinct murmurs escaped his lips, as he made motions as if tossing and turning, though a gradual paralysis was spreading up from his fingers and hands, up his arms. Slowly, his elbows stilled, leaving his shoulders to ripple from an unknown dream.

Gently, the Doctor placed a hand either side of Draco's face. The Time Lord closed his eyes.

Flashes; darkness. Was that…an eye? Something soulless. Patience, sadness, tragedy. Need…need…something. Words. Alone, so alone. Bitter. Something new? Another presence. Reach out…

The Doctor recoiled, panting melodramatically. He raised his forearm over his eyes, as if warding something off.

"There's something…in his…mind," the Time Lord panted, eventually lowering his arms

"Really?" Snape spoke, snide, sneering

"Yes, really," the Doctor snapped, practically forgetting to pant, "I felt it. Tried to get into me."

"What is this…something?" Dumbledore raised a hand to quiet Snape.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted

"Is it magic?" McGonagall asked

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted again. "Best take him in there," the Doctor pointed to the hospital wing, "Looks like he'll need it."

As the trio of teachers walked away, Snape levitating Draco, the Doctor surreptitiously scanned the student with his wand. A sudden buzz confirmed his suspicion; whatever was in Malfoy's mind, was somehow related to the temporal anomaly.

O

This was no fun without Draco, Harry reflected. His friend had just collapsed in Charms; that left the black haired youth to wander Hogwarts alone. He'd show Draco the things he found when he got better.

Should he return to the three headed dog's room? Probably not, Harry decided. Wait and show Draco that, maybe Draco would know some charm to get around it. Until then, look everywhere else.

Harry continued his exploration. After several minutes, he came upon a possibly promising room. With a muttered, recently learnt, spell, the door clicked open. Curious, Harry guardedly entered.

Bare. The room was totally bare, plain, grey stone walls. And one other thing; a mirror. A tall, ornate mirror, edged in gold. Harry cautiously approached, examining the features of the object. Writing was etched in the frame: The Mirror Of Erised.

Frowning, Harry rested his palm on the cold glass, his breath misting over the surface. As he did so, an image appeared in the frame. He saw himself; a mirror image of Harry Potter, right down to the hair and scar, dressed as he was. Behind him, stood just one figure.

The figure was male; tall, lithe, pale, bald. His sallow skin was stretched tight over the bones and skull, giving the impression of an almost skeleton, dressed in black robes. Thin, flat slits of nostrils flared as the man-a wizard?-stared out of the window with catlike red eyes.

Harry span around, expecting to see the ghostlike wizard. Nothing. Frowning, he looked back at the mirror. The man stood there.

"Voldemort," Harry breathed, instinctively recognizing the stranger.

In the mirror, the Dark Lord smiled.

O

Between lessons, the Doctor checked on Draco every day. Since his arrival in the hospital wing three weeks ago, the student had remained there, eyes ever-closed, ever sleeping, while the tremors, the shaking in his body had gradually faded to an almost petrified state.

Completely still, he almost looked peaceful, if not for the aura of fear he gave off.

The Doctor crossed his legs, sitting besides the student. What was wrong with Draco Malfoy? What was in his head? How had it caused the anomaly?

All the questions buzzed around his head, as he looked over the pale boy. He didn't dare try and touch minds again, after what happened last time. The thing affecting Draco had almost entered him. How was he to help if he couldn't even find out what the issue was?

"Lumos," The Doctor turned, to see Madam Pomfrey, witch in charge of the hospital wing, light her wand. She kept the light close to Draco's face, running it over his cheeks, eyes and lips, trying to find any irregularities.

"Are you a doctor?" she soon turned to the Time Lord, "It's about time we had a Defence teacher with some sense."

"I dabble," the Doctor shrugged. "I'm the Doctor, not a Doctor."

"There's a difference?" Madam Pomfrey muttered to herself, eyes widening as Draco suddenly moved, a ripple of movement in his mouth.

The Doctor and Madam Pomfrey both leant closer to Malfoy, the latter extinguishing their wand. "I didn't want to…" words, like sleep-talk, escaped Draco's lips.

"He's getting better," the witch said to herself, not expecting a reply

"But why?" the Doctor gave her one anyway, sounding annoyed, confused. He hated not knowing. Sometimes it was fun, but now, with a life possibly in the balance, it was a pain.

Another tremor passed through the student's body, this time in an arm. It was odd to see movement in the otherwise still frame. In a flash, Draco suddenly opened his eyes and, after a few seconds, sat quickly up, panting madly.

O

Again quiet, Harry made his way down the corridors, ever-glad he hadn't yet run into Filch. At night, the passages looked surprisingly different, though he could just about make his way through.

The Mirror of Erised again loomed ahead. Harry tentatively stepped forwards, seeing his reflection cloud the crystal-like glass. Soon, the same, forbidden figure formed behind him. The black haired boy rested a hand on the reflection, awed.

O

The Doctor paced through Dumbledore's office. The password (chocolate frog) had been given to all teachers at the start of the year. Now he was free to enter when he wished; and seeing as Dumbledore, and most other teachers, were at the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, it was an ideal time to look around.

He was relatively sure there wouldn't be any interruptions; Quirrell was supposed to be bringing in the mountain troll, and he wasn't here, so with any luck…

**Thud.**

The noise caught him off guard. Something loud stomping through the corridors.

"No…" the Doctor whispered, face falling. Of course! Time would try and keep working, keep ticking in the right order. Self-preservation, it was trying to keep as close to the real timeline as it could, with no Quirrell, with Ron and Hermione out of Harry's life, with Harry in Slytherin…

Listening intently, he heard the noise of a club being smashed down on some distant wall, and all the students hurrying back to common rooms.

The teachers would be expected to help. Check. The Doctor swiped something off a shelf, before running out, and down the gargoyle entrance.

Oh, it felt good to run again!

After several minutes, relying on his book-gained knowledge to find the mountain troll. He wasn't disappointed; after passing the wrecked entrance gates, broken by the troll's club, he came upon the beast, lumbering down towards the bathrooms.

The thing that did surprise him, though, was Harry Potter, sprinting down towards the troll.

Why? The Doctor thought as he ran. He wouldn't be trying to save Draco: Malfoy was still in the hospital wing, monitored just in case of a relapse. So Harry was going after the mountain troll on his own whim: probably time trying to run its course again. But did Harry even stand a chance alone?

The Time Lord entered the bathrooms, to see Harry throwing red sparks up at the irate troll. It hefted a club up, bring it down violently, shattering the tiled floor and only just missing Harry.

"Careful!" the Doctor yelled, catching the student by surprise.

Harry, again, only just avoided a swing of the troll's club. He threw more red sparks up, out of his wand, achieving nothing but to make the troll shake its thick head, as if leaves were falling on it.

With just one more idea, the Doctor threw the item he'd 'borrowed' from Dumbledore's office towards Harry. It moved not-at-all-gracefully through the air, landing with an empty noise on the floor.  
The Sorting Hat.

Unsure, Harry ran over to the headgear, trusting the Doctor's judgement. He picked up the black, ugly looking thing, lifting it over his head as the club came down again. Fighting again, he threw more sparks up at the troll, hat at his side.

Harry felt the hat grow momentarily heavy, and heard a clang of metal. He looked to his side, to see a long, silver, metal item rest on the floor, the top of which within the hat.

A sword? Harry frowned, unsure of where the item had come from, but taking it nonetheless. With something in his eyes, not quite savagery, something nobler, Harry Potter raised the weapon, and jabbed towards the mountain troll. The blade pierced the club, and with a yank, Harry pulled the troll's weapon away, leaving the monster standing still, looking a bit stupid.

"Nicely done, Harry!" The Doctor cheered, thankful his gambit had paid off. Harry wasn't finished yet though; the black haired boy pulled the sword out from the thick wood of the club, staring up at the grey-skinned troll. "Harry, no!" the doctor shouted, beginning to move across the bathroom, as Harry began to ram the sword upwards.

"_Stupefy!_" the same word was shouted by three voices, as three separate bolts of light crashed into the lumbering troll. It fell backwards, avoiding narrowly Harry's thrust of the sword.

"Do you mind explaining what it is you're doing here?" McGonagall was the next to break the silence, surveying the scene. The wrecked bathroom, with a stunned mountain troll, a first year Harry Potter wielding a sword, and the Doctor.

"I thought I could help," Harry's voice now sounded innocent, more like a typical first year, as opposed to the savage voice one would expect from his actions mere seconds ago. "I've heard of mountain trolls, how hard could it be? It was harder than I thought."

"It should be, that is-" Minerva paused, before looking at Dumbledore and speaking in a hushed whisper, "Albus! That's…"

"The Sword of Godric Gryffindor," the headmaster identified, piercing gaze locked on the weapon in Harry's hand.

"Not what you would expect a student of my house to carry," Snape sneered, gaze momentarily hovering on the Doctor.

"I don't see," Minerva paused, "Doctor," she sounded appalled, "Did you _give _it to him?"

"Me?" the Doctor gestured to himself. He said 'No' the same time Harry said 'yes'. The teachers looked between them.

"He gave me the hat," Harry pointed towards the Sorting Hat, which lay crumbled on the floor, "The sword came out of it when I held it."

The Doctor smiled to himself. Harry wasn't completely Slytherin, that appeared to just be a symptom of the anomaly. Much of his heart must still be Gryffindor for him to draw the sword from the hat. And with any luck, the rest of the teachers would be curious. Despite the cold looks Severus was giving him, they must be wondering; how was it a Slytherin could wield the sword of Gryffindor?

If they made him change house, it was possible they could minimize the damage to the time stream. If.


	5. The Truth, And Nothing But

**Another of the chapters with a scene that was part of the basis for the whole story. The last spell cast in this chapter.  
Anyway, hope you enjoy this! I'm not certain how much more this story will go on for, but one of the storylines is kind-of over.  
As another note, this was one of the chapters where background music helped capture the mood for a lot of it. I'd like to extend thanks to Tegan And Sara's Dark Come Soon.  
Apart from that, enjoy, and if you can, please review. **

"What is your name?" Severus Snape spoke coldly, walking along the wall of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, sneering down at the sitting, limp Doctor.

"I am…the Doctor," the Time Lord appeared to be speaking unwillingly.

"Why have you come here?"

"To…to teach, and find the temporal anomaly."

"The what?" Snape stopped his pacing, again looking down. "What are you?"

"I am a Time Lord," the Doctor again spoke, unwilling.

"What is a 'Time Lord'?"

"A species from the planet Galifrey."

Snape smiled grimly.

O

Several minutes later, the Doctor lay, limp, barely awake, on a table between all the teachers at Hogwarts. Next to him, part of a large batch brewed by Snape, lay a bottle of Veritaserum, the most powerful truth potion known to wizard kind.

With next to no magical training, even a Time Lord mind could fall victim to the brew.

"I am the Doctor," he again confessed, struggling in vain. "A Time Lord from Galifrey, I want to find-" a rattled moan came out from between his teeth as he tried to resist the potion, "Find…" he panted, "A temporal anomaly."

Candlelight shone on a table just next to the unresisting body. It flickered, caught in the gusts of Doctor's laboured breath, just managing to stay alight, casting eerie shadows up his face.

"You gave him…Veritaserum?" McGonagall's calm voice was appalled as she beheld the scene.

"I was suspicious," Snape replied, "And if you allow me to continue, I think you'll find my suspicions were well-founded," he looked back down at the Doctor before enunciating clearly: "What is Galifrey?"

"A- A planet in the c-constellation of Kasterborous-s. D-destroyed in the Last G-Great Time War…"

"He's an alien?" Professor Sprout was the first to speak, the words feeling silly on her tongue. "That's impossible."

"Ah, Pomona, we practise magic," Dumbledore chided good-naturedly, "Are such things more unusual?"

"He is not lying," Severus broke the thoughtful silence, "Were he able to resist the Veritaserum, I have no doubt he would have chosen a more convincing tale."

The teachers stared down at the paralyzed Time Lord. To look at him like this, it was hard to believe his words were true. However, each of them had spoken to the Doctor, he was odd, no denying, and each could recollect at least one, well, alien moment.

"You don't- understand," the Doctor gasped, fighting against the influence of the potion, "I- I need to find the-e anomaly." He was panting. "Time is collapsing, Hogwarts is a crucial moment in Earth's timeline, especially now, a-and if it goes wrong…" he let the sentence finish itself in the teachers' minds. He was exhausted from the effort of resisting the potion.

"What is your wand?" Severus spoke calmly, despite the Doctor's announcement

"A screwdriver!" the Doctor shouted up, "Is that really the most important thing on your mind?"

"_Stupefy,_" Snape pointed his wand coldly at the Doctor. A bolt of red light shot from it, stunning the Time Lord.

A few seconds ticked mercilessly by, until Flitwick summoned up the courage to speak. "We should think on this. Is anyone going to search his room? There may be something of interest."

"I already have," Snape spoke again, lifting his wand once more, "_Accio books._"

One by one, seven books, some thin, some very thick, landed on the table, just by the Doctor. The thinnest, the one on top, held a visible title: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

O

"Draco?" Harry rushed across the unstaffed hospital wing, "Draco!" the black haired youth stopped just by the blonde's bed.

All the staff had been summoned to some meeting by either Dumbledore or Snape. The result was a mostly unpatrolled school, save for portraits and ghosts who reported any wrongdoers to Filch. Though the ghosts had as much a sense of mischief as the students, meaning about half the fifth floor had turned to cheesecake, 90% of Defence Against the Dark Arts practical experiments were unleashed in the dungeons, and someone had levitated the Quidditch hoops into the Astronomy Tower.

That didn't matter though: Harry had simply taken advantage of Madam Pomfrey's absence to sneak into the hospital wing. They hadn't been letting Draco out, unsure of the cause of the ailment or withdrawal of whatever had made him collapse in lesson. Friendship was the strongest thing on Harry's mind.

"Potter," Draco drawled, sounding perfectly healthy despite his stillness, facing up at the ceiling rigidly.

"You ok?"

"Of course," he sounded bored, "Just wish they'd let me go."

"Me too," Harry swung back and forth on his chair, "Tell you what though, I found something pretty amazing."

"What?" Draco spoke in a dull monotone again.

"It's a mirror, but," Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, "It has _him _in!"

"Him?" Draco was only mildly curious

"You know," Harry leant closer, barely audible, "_Voldemort_."

The effect was instantaneous. Draco's neck, but only his neck, turned, the rest of his body stationery. His eyes were wide, staring, as he looked at Harry.

"He's in a mirror?" the phrasing suggested a question more than the tone.

"Yeah!" Harry nodded, excited.

"Wish I could see," Draco turned back again to face the ceiling

"You can, "Harry shook the blonde's hand, excited, "No teachers anywhere now!"

"Later," Draco didn't even turn again, "I feel stiff."

Nodding, looking forward to it, Harry sat back, staying with his friend.

O

With shaking hands, Dumbledore lowered the seventh Harry Potter book. Genuine. So much so, it scared even him. Like anyone, the Hogwarts' headmaster held a few secrets, and yet here they were, displayed, clear as anything, on the page. Ink on paper.

No one knew. And yet here, the future and the past were both clearly displayed. The secret past and the unknown future. That just shouldn't be possible.

"I am convinced," Dumbledore said, some time after closing the book.

Naturally, he hadn't read the whole saga in the past hour. Instead, with a specific thing to look for, Snape had used _Legilimens _and skimmed the Time Lord's hectic mind, finding trace of the book, and extracted the memories, placing them into the pensieve for all the teachers to experience at the speed of thought: much, much quicker than normal time. With the vague sense of the Doctor's memories, Dumbledore had read through the seventh book alone, the Doctor's sense of memories, now in him via the pensieve, had filled in all the gaps.

"_Ennervate_," Dumbledore pointed his wand at the paralyzed Time Lord, injecting him with new life. Panting, the alien sat up, suddenly energized, free from the effects of the potion.

"What are these?" the headmaster's tone was calm, and yet an edge could be heard to his normally mellow voice

"Books," the Doctor shrugged

"We've never heard of them," Snape sneered

"`Course you won't have. They don't exist here," the Doctor countered quickly

"Quiet," Dumbledore raised a hand to stop Snape's drawling response, instead speaking quietly to the Doctor, "Explain."

"Well, ooh, could be tricky. To start with, everything that's ever been exists somewhere, every little idea, book, story…" he sounded wistful, "With me so far? No? Join the club. The books come from another pocket of reality, an infinitesimal _speck_ of the wider universe, in which the events in this universe were projected into the mind of a rather nice lady called JK Rowling. Nothing as advanced as parallel universes, just multiple realities overlaid on one spot, repelled from each other, except for a few people that dart over and over. How'd you think I got here? Simple enough."  
"I am not a fiction," Snape's eyes blazed

"Never said you were," the Doctor shrugged, "You'll never meet anyone who thinks you are. Like that muggle-repellent charm of yours, time compensates, stops the realities crossing over. Someone knows you pretty well though," the Doctor picked up the seventh book, tossing it from hand to hand, before throwing the hardback over at Snape, "Here, page 593."

Frowning, Snape quickly flicked through the book, skimming down the page, before slamming it shut and snarling.

"Why did you not tell us?" Dumbledore used a kindly voice, trying to understand the Time Lord

"Can't you tell?" the Doctor tilted his head, "Too much power, I'd have thought you'd know about it. Answer me honestly, right now, would you have hired Quirrell knowing what he's done? Would you host the Triwizard? Now, now the Boy who Lived is in Slytherin, and what are you doing about it? Interrogating someone who's only here to help!"

Silence.

"So…" Snape begun, speaking slowly, "You're an alien,"

"Yes," the Doctor nodded eagerly

"You lied to get a place here,"  
"Um…yes?" the Doctor looked up, as if he was a child with his fingers caught in the cookie jar

"You have books containing a record of our future."

"Yes!"

"You are not even a wizard,"

"Yes,"

"And you wish us to trust you?" Snape sounded profoundly sceptical

"One moment Severus," Dumbledore spoke in an almost-whisper, pausing upon finishing the sentence to think. "One must admit the secrets in those books to be true."

The implication of the bearded wizard's words caused the teachers to pause. Could they trust the Doctor? Certainly, he hadn't given them reason not to.

"Please," the Doctor swayed forwards on the table, "Just a chance, just, just give me a chance. I'll go as soon as I find the anomaly."

"Your presence here has done much harm," Dumbledore murmured, "The stone in the hallway, the sword, so much happens around you Doctor."

"I'm sorry," he looked own, ashamed

"One should never be burdened with the knowledge of the future, the gift of prophecy holds mixed blessings, but to know what you know…"

"It's never easy," the Doctor conceded

"And now you bring records of our lives to our midst," Dumbledore shook his head slowly, "Reckless," his eyes twinkled, "Just like some of my favourite students."

The Doctor smiled gratefully

"The knowledge you have brought to us is unforgivable, Doctor."

"Sorry," the Time Lord winced at the scolding in the kindly tone

"I fear there is only one course of action," the headmaster lifted his wand. The Doctor blinked.

"_Obliviate!_" the word was like a thunderclap in Albus Dumbledore's voice.

A soft, white light shone at the tip of his wand. It spread over the room, like a fog, a mist, breezing over to each of the teachers. Each of them slumped, asleep, to the floor. The spell spared the Doctor however, smoothly parting to avoid the Time Lord.

"Memory charm," the Doctor whispered, getting up, "Thank you," he began to walk away

"Doctor," Dumbledore lifted one hand, touching the Doctor's upper arm and preventing the Time Lord from leaving. "I do not like betrayal, please show me it was necessary for me to jeopardize their trust in such a way."

"I'll try," the Doctor nodded solemnly

"It is obvious something is very wrong when the mark of a true Gryffindor is drawn by one sorted to Slytherin. I hope you find yourself able to talk to me."

"I won't let you down," the Doctor promised.


	6. Lost

**Some of you may be getting suspicious. To those that aren't, you should be!  
Hee hee, anyway, there are more hints towards the main foe in this chapter, but cheer up! By next chapter it's Christmas!**

Quick, excited, the newly released Draco, and the keen Harry, ran through the dark, night-time corridors of Hogwarts. "The mirror's this way!" Harry whispered back, grinning. Draco nodded, silent, running slightly jerky.

After several minutes, they burst into the room. The Mirror of Erised stood there still, proud.

"There!" Harry pointed, excited, "He's just there!"

Draco didn't speak, instead just tilting his head. His eyes bore into the glass of the mirror, as if he was trying to break the glass by force of will. Confused, Harry looked between his friend and the mirror, trying to figure out what was going on. All he could see was the Dark Lord standing there, almost proud.

"W-what is this?" Draco turned, a little slower than one would expect from a shocked person

"Him," Harry whispered, almost awed, looking reverently at the glass

"You see- Voldemort? I just see…" Draco paused, "What do you think it shows?"

"The Dark Lord," the black haired boy's whisper was simple

"Not for me," Draco shot another glance at the mirror. Worry was visible in his movements, and yet some kind of blessed bliss was viewable in his eyes.

"What'd you see?"

"Just," Draco paused imperceptibly, "And a friend."

"Who? Pansy?" Harry's voice took on a slightly mocking tone as he named the Slytherin female student

"Close," Draco snorted. Taking one more, haunted, look back at the mirror, he span around and strode out the room.

O

"Thank you," Dumbledore stood up, looking over the Hogwarts Staff Room. All the teachers sat around the table, with the headmaster, quite naturally, at the head. "Today as you know, is the day the Young were found after the Founding of Hogwarts."  
The Doctor sat up at the unfamiliar event.

"In honour of them, this anniversary, there is to be a two minute silence, one for each of them. That is all. You will know when."

Dumbledore kindly ended the meeting. As the teachers trekked out the Doctor stood up and quickly ran over to the headmaster

"Albus!" he sounded surprised, "You don't mind if I call you Albus? Oh, who am I kidding, that's hardly important, D- nah, Dumbledore's a mouthful, and 'sir' is too military. I'll go for Albus, so, Albus," the Doctor finished dithering, meeting eyes with the headmaster's twinkling eyes

"Yes Doctor?"

"These Young, I've never heard of them, and I should've if they're annual, they are annual? Sounds it, if you're celebrating an anniversary."

"Yes, the remembrance is yearly. And may I remind you that your knowledge of our school comes only from the books, it is most unlikely all details would be included."

"I know, "the Doctor blinked, "It really feels wrong though. What is it anyway?"

"When Hogwarts was founded, "Dumbledore paused, thinking of the best way to continue, "The Four Founders found three teenagers said to be wandering around the castle. To this day we do not know where the three came from, and we remember them as best we can. Some call them the Lost, there is no data suggesting they ever existed before the instant they were found."

"Sounds spooky, I like spooky, "the Doctor grinned, before frowning, "Hang on, you said three? But it's only a two minute silence-"

"It is three minutes, as I said in the meeting. One for each of the Lost."

"What?" the Doctor looked momentarily confused, before banging his palm to his head, "Of course! Someone's changing your timeline, have to be some changes somewhere. Of course you can't see them, it's _your _timeline, but I'm an outsider, changes are easy to find."

O

"You're not what I expected," Draco Malfoy kicked backwards.

The blonde was laying on an emerald green duvet in the Slytherin dormitories, head on a propped-upright, crisp white pillow. A golden 'S' was stitched lower down the sheet. He was dressed in his normal robes, a smart black. Laying just beside the bed, on the floor, Harry Potter rested, waving his wand unconsciously, manipulating a snakelike strand of smoke.

"Let me guess," Harry sighed, "Boy Who Lived in Slytherin, parseltongue. You're not the only one."

"I'm sorry, alright?" Draco replied, full of angst for a moment.

No reply.

The trail of smoke summoned by Harry's wand twirled a tad faster, fuelled by frustration. The upper tip of it expanded, forming a hazy outline of a snake's head, beady eyes glaring, forked tongue flicking, all for the brief moment it existed.

"What happened to you anyway?" Harry spoke up.

"Hospital wing?" Draco queried, "Everyone's asking. How am I meant to know? Not like I was conscious a lot of the time."  
"You just collapsed in lesson."

"Then that's what happened. I can't even remember that." He shrugged, not really caring.

O

Snape paced around the walls of the storage room. Few people ever came this far down in the dungeons, and coupled with the locked door, that made it an ideal place to hide any artefacts or items you didn't want people finding.

Currently, the room stored the disfigured, coarse rock that had been found in the hallway a while ago. The Doctor had insisted it be kept, though he hadn't visited the place for quite some time.

Severus Snape tentatively moved closer. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous; the rock seemed to emanate a feeling of disquiet, even though it was a simple, disfigured grey, it was just…odd, unnatural.

Cleaning house. Too much mess was being spread through the school since the Doctor's arrival, he seemed to treat the place like a playground, leaving 'toys' and things strewn everywhere. Most of the students seemed to like him, and yes, there was something likeable about him, still, even the most likeable person could become infuriatingly irritating.

And to help clean house, this storage room should be freed up. Now he was here though, Snape just didn't fell willing to go near the stone. Well, there were other ways.

A noise not unlike a swish of air echoed behind the teacher. Snape span around, catching for the briefest instant, the noise of something being scraped along stone. However, there was nothing behind Severus. He turned around, facing the stone again, and yet he couldn't rid himself of the prickling feeling on the back of his neck; as if he was being watched.

"_Reducto!_" Snape cut his wand through the air, sending a violent flash of magic through the shadows. The spell contacted the stone, and dissipated almost instantly.

The prickling on the back of his neck intensified.

"_Reducto!_" Snape shouted again, vicious scowl on his lips as the spell failed again.

Whatever it was, this was no normal stone. Otherwise it would've shattered to little more than dust, especially with the force behind that spell.

He turned, striding confidently out the room, feeling watched, and yet when he looked, nothing was there.

O

"You know what I'm wondering about?" Draco restarted the conversation, still lying back idly

"What?"  
"That three-headed dog you saw. Not the sort of thing they'd keep in a school."

"In this place?" Harry shrugged, "Not sure if there's much they wouldn't do. A giant brought me shopping."  
"Giant?" Draco paused, "You mean Hagrid? That oaf huh?"

"Yeah," Harry gave a scornful laugh, "he said the two safest places to put stuff were Gringotts and Hogwarts."

"Goblins or dogs, some choice."

"Hagrid took something out of Gringotts, a tiny bag."

"And he must've moved it here. A guard dog, nice thought Potter."

The students were silent for a little while, thinking about, not only what the three-headed dog entailed, but what was within the bag. Something precious, something valuable definitely.

"A treasure that needs more protection than Gringotts," Draco muttered to himself, "You should know what I'm thinking."

"Nab it?" Harry asked, sarcastically curious. His fingers delved into his pocket, playing a little with the key he'd pick pocketed from the Doctor.

"Definitely."

O

Luna Lovegood wandered down the corridor, in her own world as always. Her bag was heavier than it strictly should have been, but she didn't mind. Her jewellery, most for superstition's sake, jangled a little, her bracelet with two spheres, one silver, one gold, hanging down on a tiny little string, chiming against each other. Around her thin neck, an orange chain was fastened going down to some plastic representation of a clove of garlic. To finish the look, hooked over a pocket of her beige bag, bright purple sunglasses rested, the lenses of which shimmered with a magical light.

Half-skipping, she continued down the corridor, carefree.

Slam.

She span around, drawn out of her reverie by the sudden noise. Mouth quirked into a smile, Luna wandered back along the floor. Something had sealed the door shut. Strange.

Shrugging, she turned to wander back down the corridor, however, she stopped after just one step. Something else was on the empty path now; this stretch of the castle was rarely populated, Luna only used it to avoid the bullies. Now though, the pale blonde stood opposite something very, very unusual.

She walked up to it, curious, mildly tense, examining the oddity with wide, unblinking eyes. Frowning, her gaze went up the unexpected figure, beholding, after a few seconds, terror.

She backed away, looking wildly from side to side, suddenly afraid, her bracelets jangling.

A harsh pressure on her shoulder, her neck, then nothing.

O

The headmaster's office was tranquil for a moment. Fawkes the phoenix was just past its prime, flaming feathers faded, and it was resting against its perch. A glittering eye reflected the other two occupants of the office: Dumbledore and the Doctor.

As the phoenix watched, another entered, the caretaker of Hogwarts, Argus Filch.

"Headmaster," Filch gave a little bow, "Two students have been reported missing."

"Who?" Dumbledore's expression turned instantly from one of a kind bemusement at the Doctor, to one more akin to a thunderclap, out of place on the old, wise face.

"A Ravenclaw First Year called Luna Lovegood, and a Gryffindor First Year, Ronald Weasley. They didn't turn up to lessons and no one has seen them since."

"Thank you Argus," Dumbledore nodded

"You're welcome headmaster," the caretaker nodded hastily, before quickly pacing out of the room.

"Ah, it's like a Baxter," the Doctor chuckled to himself as soon as the caretaker was out of hearing range

Dumbledore turned, curious

"A Baxter?" the Doctor interpreted the wizard's expression, "Computer from the future, tiny little time travelling particles in it, in the first second, splits up any problem you give to it, and send the result back in time, then solve it bit by bit by tiny little bit, messaging its progress back to itself in the _past_. Solves a problem in literally no time; and the really quirky thing," the Doctor's expression brightened, "They were _never used at all_, as soon as it calculates an answer, it's unnecessary. Billions of them out there, helped save a whole planet, but they were never used, isn't that brilliant?"

"How is that relevant?" Dumbledore's tone was one of curiosity

"It's a cool story," the Doctor shrugged, "And makes no sense. Bit like the disappearances. Students don't just vanish, if that was the temporal anomaly we wouldn't even be able to remember them, but if it's some intruder, like what affected Draco, then it should be keeping a low profile, not being seen. Not attacking almost defenceless First Years, unless…"

The Doctor's voice trailed off, appalled. His expression cycled through several different moods: angry, triumphant, curiosity, thoughtful, even scared, in a split second, before finally settling on one of loss.

"Unless…it had to," Dumbledore whispered, finishing the Time Lord's thought

The Doctor looked up, speaking in little more than a croak. "Unless it was _feeding_."


	7. Christmas Time

**Quick update this time, i just couldn't stop writing it. I quite like this chapter. Anyway, enjoy!**

"Bee in your bonnet Doctor?" the Sorting Hat delivered its own form of greeting to the seated Time Lord. "It's Christmas, and as I understand it, that is to be a time of joy."

"Never is for me," the Doctor shrugged.

He was sitting back, legs crossed, in a chair, among Dumbledore's various possessions. With the disappearance of two students to the unknown enemy, the teachers, well, some of them, were patrolling Hogwarts during the holidays. Not many students were here, even Harry had gone away, to stay with Draco and his father. That left three teachers at a time looking around the nooks and crannies of the castle, with Dumbledore in the kitchens, using magic to aid the house-elves.

With little else to occupy his time, the Doctor had been relaxing in the headmaster's office. It was easier to think her; such wisdom was contained within the walls, and not many people would walk in.

Oh, and of course he could discuss things with a hat. He liked hats.

"You shouldn't give up so easily. How about a hint?"

"What would you know? You're a hat!" the Doctor scoffed.

Oaky, he didn't like hats _that _much. He preferred fezzes. Maybe he should bring that up to Dumbledore: get a Sorting Fez. Nah, that might bug JK.

"Some of us have been here since the Founding of Hogwarts itself. That gives us a certain appetite for knowledge."

"Whatcha got for me then?" the Doctor kicked back

The Hat paused for a moment, as if recalling some long lost memory, before starting to sing.

_Time ticks on from start to finish_

_And still there is much to see_

_To watch from end to start to middle_

_To think like that must be the key._

_Not all obstacles you face are new_

_Not everything that happens is apart_

_The danger may be its own end_

_Be sure not to break Hogwarts' heart._

The hat fell silent for a little while, before coughing. "I think that's how it went," its normal, raspy voice formed a contrast with its melodic singing.

"Who got you to sing?" the Doctor eventually commented, "Does _everything _have to be in riddles? I mean, why can't you just say it?"

"Everyone's a critic," the Hat sounded almost smug.

O

"Dad!" Draco shouted into his house, holding onto Harry's hand.

The two pale youths formed a stark contrast with the black, gothic architecture of Malfoy Manor. Gargoyles stared out from marble walls, black stone and wooden constructions housing various details. A stone snake was formed from a trail of white marble, set across the partially reflective black floor.

Along the walls, there were objects which appeared almost normal, until one looked closely. A hat-stand, with hooks which appeared to be wary, like a predator, ready to jump out. A portrait with the knight-figure it contained, with his sword drawn, duelling, somehow, with the portrait of the same knight, at a different point in time, hung on the opposite side of the room. Even the banisters seemed to be hiding something; each time Harry looked, they were a different colour: black, to a dark mahogany, to even a bright, marble white.

A staircase descended from the wall opposite the entrance, right down the centre of the room. The path at the top of it went both ways, though only one way had any doors at the end of the almost balcony-like area: the left side of the path was simply a thick, tall, black cabinet.

"Ah, Draco," a drawling voice came from the right of the stairs. Looking up, the students saw a tall man, with long, very pale hair, dressed in leathery black robes. He carried a black cane, which on further examination proved to be his wand. A silver skull, painstakingly carved (was it carved?), was attached to the hilt.

"And this must be Harry," Draco's father descended the staircase proudly, though he spoke the name with something akin to distaste in his mouth. "Welcome to our abode, I trust you like it?"

"It's…amazing," Harry replied after a breathless moment.

Lucius Malfoy's expression softened somewhat

"Come," the father made a curt gesture with his wand, walking alongside the now-black banisters. With a tap of his wand, they morphed from black metal to black glass.

The imposing man lead them into a lounge-style room, with luxurious black, emerald and silver sofas and cushions, glass tabletops supported by curly silver frames, self-supporting balls of magical light illuminating the mostly-black chamber, and a small, pitiful little creature with grey skin, dressed in a yellowing strip of cloth.

"Dobby!" Lucius called, cold, "We have guests."

The little grey creature looked up with wide, tennis-balls of eyes, from Lucius, to Draco, to Harry.

"Dobby is here to serve," the little creature squeaked, "Dobby must ask, would masters like refreshment?"

"Fire-whisky," Lucius commanded, before looking down to his son and Harry

"Butter-beer," Draco said, satisfied, before sitting down and laying back on a velvety sofa

"Just pumpkin juice," Harry said, moving to sit next to Draco.

The house-elf hurried out the room. While it was gone, Lucius drifted along the room, passing Harry and Draco and the glass table just in front of them, and sitting the other side of it. He let his wand rest in a fold of his robe.

"There are some advantages to the wizarding world, eh Potter?" Draco laughed as Dobby meekly returned, levitating three drinks. The house-elf dealt them out quickly, with three flicks of its scrawny hands, clinking each of them down on the table. Once that was done, Lucius whipped Dobby across the room, with a flick of his wand. Jumping a little, Dobby hurried away.

"Draco tells me," Lucius began, sipping his fire-whisky, "that you also have been Sorted into our illustrious house of Slytherin."

"Everyone's surprised," Harry shrugged, not touching his drink just yet, "I just love it there."

"Nevertheless, it is good to know Pure-Bloods still attend Hogwarts, as it is to know that one does not always follow in the footsteps of one's parents."

The remark was almost chilling, and yet Harry felt himself flushing a little, as if at praise.

"Remember what else I said dad?" Draco was greedily gulping from his glass

"Ah yes," Lucius nodded sagely, "The three-headed dog. I have been told to say nothing, though I believe you two boys, being of sufficient strength of blood, as evidenced by your acceptance in the greatest of houses, are able to know."

Draco's father took another, pleasurable sip of his fire-whisky, before placing it on the table.

"Being employed at the Ministry," he spoke again, "Makes me privy to some secrets one otherwise may not know of. I can tell you, the item taken from Gringotts, to Hogwarts, is none other than the Philosopher's Stone."

O

Christmas Eve.

It wasn't often the Doctor had a calm one. He was half-tempted to go run past Fluffy, to liven things up, just so it felt more natural. Ah well, trouble generally found him as it was.

Sighing, he ran his wand/sonic screwdriver across a mobile phone that was hiding deep in his pocket. After a few moments, he turned it on and dialled.

"Doctor," Amy's irritated voice came through the speaker, "You said you wouldn't be long." She was scolding

"Yeah, sorry," the Doctor muttered guiltily, "Got a little sidetracked."

At that moment, a small model reindeer, one of many some students had enchanted, flew past him, whistling a tune.

"Ait a minute," Amy spoke, "Is that…Doctor, is that _Jingle Bells_? Why are you there at Christmas?"  
"I told you, sidetracked. Hey, didn't I leave you anywhere interesting?"  
"Um, no, you left us in the middle of nowhere."

"Like your dream Leadworth then!" the Doctor grinned, "You should be happy, spend some time with Rory, you know he needs it."

"Doc-"

"Ah, gotta go, I'll be there…sometime," the Doctor hastily disconnected.

Whew, he'd done that to relax, hadn't gone well.

O

Draco slept on the top bunk, Harry on the bottom. It wasn't meant to be a bunk-bed generally, but with a couple of spells, the single bed had been cloned, and a bunk-bed created.

"I know you're awake," Draco whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"Christmas tomorrow," Harry whispered back, "You can never get to sleep before Christmas. You know, this is my first real one."

"First real Christmas?"

"Yeah, the Dursley's weren't a fan of giving me presents."

"Muggle scum," Draco spat, suddenly vehement.

Harry chuckled, before leaning back and closing his eyes. Might as well get a real attempt at sleep in before the day.

O

The sword of Godric Gryffindor hung proudly on the wall of Dumbledore's office. The ruby hilt let light be shone, refracted and tinted, over the cluttered tables, illuminating gadgets, gizmos and paper.

Kindly blue eyes were locked on the blade, thoughtful. With his white beard, the headmaster of Hogwarts nodded, thinking, focusing on the silver: pulled from the Sorting Hat by Harry Potter, a Slytherin.

So many oddities had occurred. The first alien teaching at Hogwarts, the blade of Gryffindor drawn, and a Slytherin being marked as a true Gryffindor. Perhaps another once-in-a-lifetime event should be made to happen. It seemed only fair, only logical.

With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore released a Patronus, a Phoenix, the shining light gently twirling through Hogwarts. To Snape, and then McGonagall, hopefully.

Looking back up at the sword, Dumbledore smiled, eyes moving back across the office to the Sorting Hat. Smiling softly, he looked back down to a package, tightly bound beneath his desk. An invisibility cloak. He was planning to give it to Harry, but after the Slytherin events, he hadn't been able to make himself: James would not have wanted that.

Harry would be made to sit beneath the Hat once again, to be reSorted. Slytherin or Gryffindor? When the holidays were over, they would tell then.

O

Draco's eyes snapped open.

"Christmas, Potter," he spoke the words, more as a statement than a celebration, before moving, getting up and waking up properly.

A few minutes later, the wizard students bounded down the stairs, each dressed in some bizarre combination of wizard robes and normal clothes, excitedly entering the black Malfoy lounge.

The room had been completely redecorated. Lucius was already sitting there, patient, and still save for the occasional, irate flick of his wand to spur on the frantic house-elf Dobby, who was putting up gothic looking Christmas decorations, and dealing out food. In the corner, a small, possibly charmed, birch tree was growing, leaves the emerald green of Slytherin, and sometimes the letter 'S' descended from the branches, like baubles.

Beneath the tree, as was tradition, lay presents, those on the left marked with 'Draco', in magical writing emblazoned in the air. Those on the right were labelled 'Harry' in Draco's father's elaborate handwriting.

These gifts were being hastily balanced in a neat pile by Dobby's magic, while the house-elf simultaneously charmed drinks, enchanted holly to grow, and ran around, setting everything else up. Lucius sat calmly in the middle.

"Take a seat," the wizard spread out his arms, open, almost kind. "Any refreshments?"

"Normal," Draco replied as he sat down

"Same as Draco," Harry said too, sitting next to his friend.

"And Gillywater for me," Lucius spoke in a friendly tone, before snapping, "Dobby!"

"Yes master," the house-elf bowed meekly, vanishing with a crack, and reappearing moments later, with the drinks.

It took about half an hour more for Dobby to finish decorating. The wizards spent their time engaging in idle commentary on the wizarding world and the state of Hogwarts, the latter topic mainly brought in so Harry had some input. Once Dobby had left the room however, aided somewhat by a vicious kick, the family, and Harry, went on to talk about more important things, such as the hidden Philosopher's Stone.

After they'd drained their drinks, it was on to the more urgent issue of the day. Presents.

Lucius levitated gifts over to his son and Harry, one each, at a time. They enjoyed taking quite a long time to unwrap, so that the other would be made to wait longer for their next one. Laughing, Harry and Draco made their way through the surprising amount of parcels, one after the other.

By the end of it, Harry had received a golden ring, embedded with a green gemstone, a slithering snake born of light within it, as well as dark, almost gothic souvenirs, a book entitled _101 Ways To Excel In Magic: What Your School Didn't Teach You_, a selection of wizard gimmicks/toys, some for games, some for more serious, defensive purposes, and finally, a stylized hilt for his wand, from Draco: it was made of silver, a winged snake curling upwards, spreading out, up until the head, whose jaw was open wide, teeth bared, to clasp the wand.

Impressed by the gift, Harry lowered his wand into it, until the base of the holly touched to snake's tail at the bottom of the grip. A spell ran through the silver, and the snake's jaws clamped shut, tightly gripping the wand.

"Thanks," Harry looked up, for once in his life, truly happy, content.


	8. ReSorting

**The next chapter! Obviously, this is a pretty dramatic moment. Enjoy!**

Run…run, don't even think of looking back. He was just a First Year, Hufflepuff, no one special.

It was following him.

Panting, he shot another look back. Half a metre away. _Merlin's beard! _That thing was fast.

He turned, trying to run faster-

A flash of pain, a nail, a talon driven into his neck.

O

"And that's all you have to know," the Doctor shrugged, waving his screwdriver to flip a box on his desk. It was just a party trick really; there was a spring on the underside of the box, his screwdriver released the tension in it, and with a practised motion, he could make the metal flex, simulating a spell. "Read up on it, etc, etc. Oh, and Harry, stay behind. Rest of you: Go!"

Mystified, the black haired boy remained in his seat, while the rest of the class trekked out. Draco gave him a pat on the shoulder before leaving, and a few seconds later, Harry and the Doctor were alone.

Nervous, the Boy Who Lived fiddled with his silver wand hilt. It was the New Year, back from the holidays, and yes, he found himself a little unused to the Hogwarts system. But why did he have to stay behind?

"Ah, don't worry," the Doctor shrugged, "You're not in trouble, come with me," the teacher stood up, "Got to go to Dumbledore's office. You're being reSorted."

Harry paused.

"Sir?" his voice was curious, questioning. With a glance though, the Doctor could see his eyes. His cold eyes.

"Oh come on, you must've been expecting this, clever kid like you. Remember before the holidays? That troll? Halloween? You went after it with a sword: the Sword of Gryffindor, not a Slytherin keepsake. Only True Gryffindor students are supposed to be able to wield it, so there you go: reSorting needed."

"I don't _want _to change House."

"I'm sorry, really I am, Harry," the Doctor's voice quietened, cracking a little, as he began to stride out of the room. "But if you're in the wrong House, it needs to be done. If you're at home in Slytherin, maybe you'll stay there," the Doctor winced at the words, they felt like a lie, "But we'll see. Come on!"

O

Dumbledore's office was strikingly silent. Normally it was full of noise; either sound carrying up from the corridors below, the song of Fawkes, or buzzing from an assortment of the headmaster's gadgets. Now though, despite the large body of people in it, there was simply silence.

The teachers stood around the outside: McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, Sprout, the Heads of the Hogwarts' Houses. Dumbledore too stood there, just next to the phoenix, who raised a baleful eye, watching through crimson feathers at the scene.

Tense, the Doctor was also there. He picked up the Sorting Hat, tenderly holding it between two hands, as if it was glass. Delicately, he placed it down on Harry's head. Snorting, it righted itself.

This was important, obviously, exceedingly so, to make sure there was no mistake in the Sorting. The Hat would pick through as much of Harry's mind as it could, to see if he was more Slytherin or Gryffindor: maybe he had somehow evolved over the small amount of term time. Close to unheard of, but there's always a first. Time was no object. Truth was.

Quietly, the Doctor stepped, back, leaving the Hat to his lengthy task.

O

_My name is Xenophilius Lovegood. I have a daughter. She is not old enough to attend Hogwarts, but she is a witch. Oh, we are so proud of her. But she is at that school, she is at Hogwarts. She is old enough. _

_I missed a whole year of her life. She should join next year, but she is there right now. What is wrong with me? _

_Is it me? _

_I cannot see why I could imagine my own daughter being a year younger. It is as if the flaw is with the world and not with I. Someone help me!_

O

Harry closed his eyes, perfectly still, straightening instinctively under the emotional weight of the hat on his head. It rested on him, gently, yet insistent, observing his thoughts, feelings and memories. Its crisp voice could occasionally be heard, a mumble, a nod, some noise of appreciation or shock. Sometimes it said the name of a Hogwarts House, as if making a tally of all the qualities he'd shown.

Which would he choose? He occupied himself by debating that question: Gryffindor would rid him of all the stares and odd looks he received, the Boy Who Lived, a Slytherin. But where did he feel home? Where did he feel kinship? In Slytherin. There was Draco, even Draco's father was Slytherin, and for one who held such dark desires to view the Dark Lord in that mirror… Was there any better home? With his gifts, the answer was obvious.  
Yes, he chose Slytherin.

But still, the Hat continued looking.

O

Dobby worked. That was the house-elf's function, to work, to serve his wizard masters. And yet, an oddity among house-elves, he didn't enjoy it. He wanted freedom, and that made him an outcast.  
Somehow, that desire surfaced upon meeting the visitor some days ago. Harry Potter. Why? Dobby wished he knew.

Some kind of sixth sense, some feeling. This boy and freedom go together. And his hopes had once again been crushed. Harry Potter had been fascinated, interested in the house-elf's servitude, not willing to help, indeed, the opposite.

So why did Dobby feel like the boy was a friend?

It was like a second life, something different, someone different, filtering, seeping in.

Regardless, Dobby went back to work.

O

The glass vanished.

Sly, conniving, and yet relishing, the snake slithered out, out over the frame which was no longer present. Over the zoo floor, towards the fat boy, who had been taunting it just minutes ago. Snap. The boy backed away, afraid.

The snake turned its head, looking at another boy, a black haired one, with a lightning scar on his forehead. It hissed a thanks, grateful to the boy and his icy glare, his vindictiveness against the fat one.

Back in Hogwarts, Harry's eyes flickered, reliving the memory. A raspy voice murmured in his ear: _Slytherin._

And still, it went on, memory after memory, careful thought going in to each of the most major ones. With a little effort, Harry could see that which the Hat thought.

The letter was in his palm: a surprise, of course it was, an incredible surprise. He never got letters. And still, it was snatched away from him, things always were. A burst of anger, no denying it, but also a sense of injustice. "It's mine!" A shout.

_Fairness, bravery. Admirable. Gryffindor._

And so, the Hat Sorted on, watching, reading, thinking.

O

The TARDIS groaned from where it lay concealed. Being a time engine, it could detect the currents of time around it, the wildly distorted currents. Things were going wrong, and it didn't take a genius to see it. Even if the Doctor had somehow managed to miss most of it.

Time was falling apart, all the key events that centred on the castle being rewritten as time went on, time trying to compensate, making things right. But in doing so, shattering the other, less urgent timelines, Luna had been unwitting dragged through a year, leaving frayed edge sin the tapestry of time. And something had built up soon after the Founding of Hogwarts, utterly chaotic changes to time. Trying to fix itself.

But something resisted, something kept things off-balance.

Something in Hogwarts.

The anomaly spread and, hidden as it was, the TARDIS could do nothing.

O

Another event played through Harry's mind. The First Sorting. A shout from the Hat: Gryffindor! Clapping from the table beneath the red-and-gold banner.

"That's not my life," Harry muttered in his head, gritting his teeth at just the thought.

More images; two others, Gryffindor students judging by the marks on their robes, one with long, blonde/brown hair, the other with short, messy red hair. The girl, the one with blonde hair, was saying something, she sounded intelligent, and maybe a little annoyingly so. Harry, standing between the duo, was enjoying listening along, though he struggled to understand the words.

"You've still got it wrong!" Harry mumbled, this time slightly aloud.

The scene still played, the Hat sorting through the jumble of true and false 'memories'.

O

Something in the depths of Hogwarts stirred. Something old, ancient, immeasurably so, and yet new to the castle. For here, in the castle, _it _was hidden, _it _lay here. And that was the aim. The goal, the target. _It_.

Despite all these hopes, these dreams, _it _was still inaccessible. Hidden by some fool up in the castle.

Mere steps away: visible, yet unreachable.

No matter, it was but a delay. Other means must be employed. Things never went to plan first time, rule of the universe, and so, a backup would be required. The backup was already created. And on his way, should all go to plan. Both the backups in fact.

O

Almost half an hour had ticked past. It felt as if the Sorting Hat was witnessing Harry's entire life, watching and judging every second. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Harry had heard cries of the first two a great deal, and the latter two a fair bit, but by no means anywhere near as much.

Again, a series of images and sounds played in Harry's mind. He recognized the scene; a couple of weeks before the holidays, on another nightly jaunt through the castle. Breathless, narrowly avoiding Filch a few times, he and Draco had made it to the room with the Mirror of Erised in, only to find it was no longer there. Moved elsewhere, so it seemed.

To put it lightly, he hadn't taken it well. His visions of Voldemort had become, as strange as it seemed, a comfort to him: one that had resoundingly been judged a "_Slytherin!" _by the Hat. Without them, his temper had set off a series of sparks from his wand, and chipped the impassive stone walls of Hogwarts. Running away hurriedly, he couldn't help but feel awed at the power he held within him.

_Slytherin._

Harry grinned at the recent judgement.

Time was going past quite quickly, and the events were almost up to the present day. There shouldn't be much more.

Around him, the teachers were getting restless. In the wait, there had been the occasional spatter of conversation, mostly when Harry murmured something, though the talks soon fizzled out after only two or three goes. The Doctor sat on the edge of a table, tense. The only one unaffected, seemingly, by the display in the room was Dumbledore, who was breathing normally, sitting there, and occasionally running a finger along one of his many devices.

Even Fawkes rustled his feathers, impatient, wide eyes surveying the room.

By far the most drama, naturally, was occurring in the mind of Harry Potter. Clip after clip of his life, played and judged.

Even the tiniest exchange was examined now, with scrutiny, the Hat peered at incidental conversations. Such as one, minutes ago. A few lines with Draco, as he was told to stay behind in the lesson.

_Strong bonds of friendship._ The Hat had taken to explaining all his decisions now, or maybe Harry was simply more adept at listening. _Gryffindor._

And then, seconds later, the images cut away, leaving Harry momentarily reeling in silence. He hadn't realized quite how much noise had built up around him; all of it seemed like a simple buzzing, a muttering of voices, critiques and compliments. Ignored. He'd simply focused on the voice of the main Sorting Hat.

"I have made my decision, completely judging this boy," the Sorting Hat took a few more tense seconds before it spoke, its voice almost hoarse, as if it had been silent for Harry's whole life. Mildly rasping, its voice sounded as if it was unused to speaking for a while: though it soon picked up the habit again.

"And what is your judgement?" Dumbledore paused in the motion of rubbing a trinket, looking up

More seconds ticked past. Harry felt something weigh down on his springy hair, beneath the hat.

The announcement was made with the customary shout:

"_Slytherin!_"

The Doctor, quite suddenly, froze, surprised. That should not happen: once was bad enough, but twice? That was just wrong. Very wrong. What was happening here? Not just to time, to Draco, but to Hogwarts and Harry Potter?

Relieved, smiling, Harry took of the hat, palming a moderately large, round, flat object and slipping it into his pocket, as he tossed the Hat to the Doctor, who only just managed to catch it. Confidently moving across the room, Snape took Harry's hand and lead the black haired boy away.


	9. Through The Trapdoor

**Yeah...things are getting a bit more major now. Couldn't think of any more ways to drag it out.  
Hopefully, more things will fall into place. **

"ReSorting huh, Potter?" Draco's nasal tones carried across to the seat next to him. The ghost teacher, Binns, didn't notice, too engrossed in his own, dull droning. "Full of surprises."

"Still in Slytherin," Harry whispered back, "Wonder why they bothered?"

"Want a treat tonight? Make things better, more exciting? It's the New Year, why not enjoy it?"

"Sure, what?"

"That dog you ran into, I went to see it. You know it's standing on a trapdoor?"

"Wow…if only we could get past it."

"Who says we can't? I've been speaking to that oaf Hagrid, turns out the dog just drops off at the sound of music."

"Now that sounds like fun." Harry grinned

"Right. Want to see it tonight? Don't forget that key you nabbed from the Doctor, bring it, might be needed."

Harry nodded.

His thoughts were slightly occupied with something else though; a round, flat object in his pocket. He hadn't been able to get a clear look at it yet, but it had dropped out of the Sorting Hat. Like the Sword he supposed, but very different. He wondered what it was. He didn't want to even risk a glimpse until he was alone; it had fallen from the hat, springing onto his hair. Whatever it was, it felt precious.

O

Not for the first time, the Doctor let out an exasperated moan, gaining strange looks from the older students in his class. He needed the TARDIS, to run some scanning on the anomaly, for all he knew it could have either faded or exploded over the world. All he could do was detect proximity, but the screwdriver buzzed no matter where he pointed it now; so the anomaly had grown, the question was, how much?

Maybe it was hubris; he hadn't expected to be lurking here so long, and with the added mystery of Harry's Sorting, and the Lost, the people in the distant past of Hogwarts, along with the students vanishing in the present…

He could feel something was wrong. Clear as day. Time Lord eyes allowed him to view the fixed points in time; and there were so, so many of those dotted in Hogwarts' history and future. With all the changes, those points were fraying.

With a sudden resolve, the Doctor got to his feet, wand at his side. Wordless, he strode straight out of the classroom, leaving the students looking around, confused.

O

"Want to visit that dog of yours?" Draco grinned, animated for the first time since his release from the Hospital Wing.

The moon illuminated Hogwarts, and it was past curfew for everyone. Only Filch wandered the corridors; did he ever sleep? That made it the perfect time for, ah, rule-bending jaunts through the castle, especially to the forbidden area on the Third Floor.

"I'm getting impatient," Draco muttered, seemingly speaking more to himself. Harry frowned, not responding, instead pulling on robes over his pyjamas, changing to something more practical.

Wand at his side, snake grip in his palm. The golden ring he'd received from Lucius fitted neatly over a free hand. A soft, eerie jade light emanated from the gem, and the snake within it hissed.

It was only after they'd left the Slytherin Common Room that Harry realized he'd forgotten about the Hat's gift. It lay just beneath his bed, unseen.

O

"How many Lost?" the Doctor strode, unnaturally angry, into the Headmaster's Office

"Doctor?" Albus looked up tiredly

"How many?" The Doctor demanded, resting a shaking hand on the stone wall

"The Lost?" Albus frowned, "History says eight Young were found in the new Hogwarts."

"_Eight_!" the Doctor half-shouted, before stumbling, back, whispering a tad quieter, "No wonder I'm so out of control…"

"Doctor?" Dumbledore leant forwards, curious, "Is there any way I can help?"

"Afraid not Albus," the Doctor shook his head, eyes dull, "I'm a Time Lord. We sense the currents in time, and when time is failing, the effects can be profound. I don't want to lose control," the Doctor shook his head, before straightening, "I need to sort this mess out. Soon."

O

A green flash shot out of Draco's wand. The blonde's eyes were cold, harsh, stony.

Fluffy, the great three-headed dog, recoiled back, and without even a bark, fell lifeless to the stone floor.

"The right spell makes everything easier," Draco murmured, stomping across the stone floor. He didn't spare a glance for the dog, and instead savagely blasted the trapdoor with a muttered _Reducto_.

"I wonder what's down there?" Harry peered down, into the darkness

"One way to find out," for a moment, Draco grinned, jumping down.

Seconds later, Harry followed.

The landing was surprisingly easy; instead of cold stone, they found themselves on something softer, springier. Like a plant.

"That could've gone worse," Harry said, putting his hand on his wand hilt to try and illuminate his surroundings.

"Don't speak too soon," Draco's word sounded as the 'ground' beneath them seemed to writhe.

This was no floor!

The plant beneath them rocked up and down, vines snaking up and down walls, hidden in the veil of darkness. Thick ropes of the plant centred on each of the struggling students, holding them tight, and as each of them moved, it squeezed.

"Maybe this- wasn't such a- good idea," Harry shouted out, struggling against the vines.

From Draco, the only response was a grunt. Ok, that wasn't good. Still struggling against the writhing vines, Harry gripped the silver hilt of his wand, thanking Lucius for the scaled metal; it was all that let him keep his grip on it.

What was the spell?

It was a plant, kept in the dark beneath the trapdoor, and if he listened hard enough…there it was, a steady drip. Dark and damp; the ideal situation for this plant? In that case…

"_Incendio!_" Harry shouted the words, as if volume would boost the strength of the resultant spell. Whatever the case, the spiralling, heated fire had a dramatic enough effect; the plant shrivelled back, moving away from him. He landed with a thud on a stonier floor below; and one spell later, was joined by Draco.

"I don't want to do that again," the black haired boy panted

"Keep going," Draco shook his head, "No way back now."

A little surprised by the abrupt command, Harry nonetheless obeyed, following Draco to the next room. A few steps later, and a large, thick wooden door blocked the way. Glittering birds-were they birds?-decorated the cavernous ceiling. It took a few seconds for the students to focus on the hovering creations; they weren't birds at all, they were _keys_.

"How are we supposed to do this?" Harry spluttered

"We're not. I think that's the point of defences Potter," Draco replied dryly

"Well, one of the keys up there has to be the key to the door."

"Obviously, and big, old fashioned if the lock's anything to go by. Probably silver, like the handle."

"And we have brooms!" Harry noted, jogging up to the bundle of hovering, magical ornaments.

"I'll do this," Draco stepped past Harry, "The advantages of coming from a Pureblood family."

"I was good in lessons too!"

"I know a good spell. Look away," Draco didn't give any more warning.

He jabbed his wand into the air, incantation lost in the noise of jittering wings. Harry looked down, covering his eyes from the blinding light emanating from the wand; the light which soon turned as opaque as stone, still shining. Noise was his only clue as to what was going on. A scrape, a whoosh of air, various clinks of metal, and a shout from Draco: "To the door!"

Scrabbling through the blinding white, Harry touched the thick wood with flailing hands, feeling it give way at his touch. Running, half-afraid the keys were chasing, he barrelled through, and, from the corner of his eyes, saw Draco seal the door with a lightning-fast spin and spell. The broom was no longer in his hand.

The blonde stretched, moving forwards a little way. As he passed Harry, wooden torches lit up around this latest chamber.

"A chessboard," Draco muttered, surveying the marble tiles, "You play Wizard Chess Potter? Now would be a good time to learn."

O

Their beds were empty.

The Doctor had been as stealthy as he could, sneaking into the Slytherin dormitories. None of the students in the emerald-green lodgings had woken up; at least, none that weren't already awake. But two of the beds were empty. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter: the duo had gone?

It took a quick, muffled with one cupped hand, sonic-screwdriver scan of the beds to determine that the temporal anomaly had not swallowed them, or anything like that. Though the traces of the anomaly were abnormally strong, they were barely above the levels that seemed to follow Draco around ever since he'd been taken ill. That being said, there was an echo around Harry, gradually building up.

Where were they?

The Doctor paced through the corridors. One person, well, thing, seemed to have answers. Time to ask. He arrived at Dumbledore's Office in a minute, and once realizing the Headmaster had retired, the Time Lord went straight for a shelf.

The Sorting Hat.

"Where are they?" the Doctor shouted, shaking, not from anger, but from the pressure of time resting on him

"I assume you mean Malfoy and the wrongly-Sorted Potter," the Hat replied, after coughing up a little dust

"Of course, but wait, wrongly-Sorted? How would you know?"  
"He should be a Gryffindor," the Hat replied, "I was not sure at first, but upon ReSorting he bore more valour than serpent."

"You're the one that Sorted him!"

"At request."

"Request? Great, a Hat takes bribes, what's it now, extra patches?"

"It was no bribe," the Hat coughed, "It was knowledge."

"Right," the Doctor sighed, "Where are they now then?"

"I am aiding you Doctor should you choose to realize it or not. Potter and Malfoy are doing your assigned task."

"My…task," the Doctor frowned, "The anomaly?"

"They also preserve the story set out for Potter," the Hat continued, seemingly ignoring the Doctor.

"The Stone!" the Doctor span, distracted yet again, half way out the door, he peered back into the office, "Who told you to Sort Harry the wrong way anyway?"

The Hat just settled its ancient form down, silent. Maybe it had not heard, or maybe it had no desire to answer.

O

Weary, the two students passed the chessboard, through dust and rubble and a fallen King.

"You're pretty good at chess," Harry commented, nodding to Draco.

The pale boy did not respond, too fixated on his goal.

The next room the entered was a moderately large chamber, desolate, empty. Relieved at the reprieve, the duo continued forwards.

"The Philosopher's Stone, dad said," Draco murmured, "Wonder what it's like?"

"We'll see," Harry spoke.

Together, they entered the next, long chamber. Just a few steps in, and purple flame flared out from the door behind them. They stumbled further forwards, escaping the rush of heat, while noticing black fire guarding the door ahead.

Laying across the centre of the dramatic chamber, there rested a long table, covered in a pristine white cloth, and seven ornate, elaborately designed glass bottles. A roll of paper rested just to the side of them.

"Is that it?" Draco muttered scornfully, scooping up the paper. Elegant prose rested on it. "Ah," the blonde murmured a second alter, "A riddle."

"Do you want me to help?" Harry walked forwards, "My _muggle_ family," he pronounced the word with only mild distaste, but heavy, sarcastic emphasis.

"Yeah, you can do this pathetic puzzle," Draco tossed the roll of paper back to Harry, who caught it.

The blonde examined the bottles, muttering numbers under his breath. Harry skimmed through the logic puzzle on the sheet, detailing the contents of the bottles, before watching the potions.

Of the seven draughts, three would be poison, and two would just be wine. Of the remaining, one would make it safe to go through the black flames ahead, while one would allow them to go through the purple. The black haired child scratched the air with his wand, creating small, white numbers from magical light just in front of each bottle. A few steps away, he wrote the numbers again in the air; a spell he'd learnt from Lucius' book.

That would be his working. With a quick word, the edge numbers turned black; neither held the way ahead according to the paper. Following this, the smallest and biggest numbers turned white; neither was poison. A good start.

It took a fair few minutes of flicking through the numbers to finally come to a conclusion. The round bottle at the right was the way back, the small one, the way ahead.

"Got it," Harry called, swishing his wand and erasing all the numbers save for those of the correct bottles; one grey, one blue.

"Good," Draco nodded, "Which one then, Potter?"

"That one," Harry quickly ran over to the table, picking up the smallest bottle, "This potion will take us ahead, that one will take us back," he pointed along the table.

"Good," Draco nodded, "Give it here then."

"What?" Harry blinked

"Look at it, there's barely one mouthful in that potion. I'll take it and go ahead, you can head back."

"Draco," Harry sighed, shaking his head, "No way. We both made it here-"

"But only one can go on. C'mon potter, I thought you were cleverer than this."  
"Oh, fine," Harry rolled his eyes, dismayed at how selfish his friend had suddenly become.

The black haired boy stepped forwards, preparing to give the bottle to the blonde. As Draco reached out, Harry pulled his own hand back and gulped down the draught. An icy chill ran through his veins, but before he allowed himself to react, he'd run, sprinting the little way to the end of the room, and through black fire.

Draco stared down at him, angry, betrayed.

Seconds later however, Harry Potter stood in the final room. The last of the trials.

The chamber was mostly unadorned; marble floor, marble walls, proud, strong, tall, impressive. Flaming torches illuminated the one object; right in the centre, the Mirror of Erised.

The gold frame shone, if possible, brighter and more beautiful than before, tightly hugging the perfect reflective surface in the centre.

Behind it, arms either side of the Mirror, a stone Angel glared, soulless eyes over the top of the gold.

Harry stepped closer, a little afraid of the imposing statues, but instead of seeing Voldemort, he beheld something more curious; a red stone, like a ruby.

In that instant, an odd wheezing noise echoed throughout the chamber. A groaning, like some kind of immeasurably old engine, unhealthy to be sure. The wheezing reached a crescendo as wind whipped up Harry's hair. He turned around, looking away from the Mirror and the statue, to see something beginning to form in the air behind him.

Blue; it was blue. Immediately, that was obvious. A box of sorts, incredibly blue, a couple of metres tall, and just one in width, textured, windows towards the top, and a flashing light right on the square roof.

Was this some final trial?

Instinctively, Harry put his hand in his pocket. The key he'd taken from the Doctor was still there; and it was warm. Was that related to this 'Police Box'? Tentatively, Harry slipped it into the keyhole.

Like a whisper, the door gently opened, revealing an impossible interior.

Harry took one more look around the chamber, before stepping into the huge box. One thing caught his attention.

The stone Angel above the Mirror had gone.


	10. Stone

**Lots of mysteries explained this chapter, but still a couple to go...  
This is the longest chapter yet, just a warning, but hopefully it'll be worth it. I scared myself writing the beginning...  
Merry Christmas anyway to all you readers! And enjoy!**

Harry Potter, Slytherin, the Boy Who Lived, stepped, amazed, into the TARDIS. Bigger on the inside… he felt a joy similar to that he'd felt upon seeing Hagrid: magic in the world, to free him from the Dursley's. But this place…it was something else.

Where Hogwarts had moving stone staircases, there were lights. Where there were talking hats, knobs and levers. Floating candles replaced with futuristic bulbs. Not only that, but it had appeared out of thin air, seemingly from the Mirror of Erised, and was so, so much bigger on the inside…

Blink.

Harry froze where he was, momentarily confused. How did that get there? The stone Angel statue from outside, the one with arms circling the Mirror, was in here. Streamlined, a slender stone arm reaching, pointing towards the console.

Harry stepped forward; there was something, just resting lightly on the console, under a small glass dome. Harry frowned, moving closer.

Blink.

Had the Angel moved again? Harry looked sideways at it; it certainly looked like it; while its face was calm, eyes blank, eerily empty, the hands with their long, sharp nails appeared more withdrawn. And…had it really been standing there?

Ignoring that, Harry looked black to the glass dome. Under it, there was a small, unimportant-looking, mucky grey bag. Yet he felt a bubble of excitement, just looking at it.

Was the philosopher's Stone within?

"_Reducto!_" Harry shouted, remembering the spell from Lucius' book. The flash of light bounced off the glass.

He could feel his shoulder prickling, as if something was watching him. The statue? Probably not, couldn't be much more than a simple enchantment, like the chess pieces. And it hadn't touched him yet. Maybe it would only react when he had the Stone.

But how was he to get through the glass?

A sudden, random idea seized him. This box belonged to the Doctor, right? His key had let him get in. maybe…

Harry held the TARDIS key just above the dome. Softly, it warmed further, shining orange.

From an imperceptible seam, the ball opened, glass hemispheres moving back into the console.

Triumphant, Harry Potter swiped up the bag, spinning around to leave the TARDIS.

He bumped straight into the stone statue. Its soulless eyes glared at him, its indifferent face haunting. Tentative, he backed away the little distance he could, before hitting the console. Careful, he sidled around this strange, unmoving guardian.

Blink.

The Angel covered half the distance towards Harry in that infinitesimal speck of time. Face contorted into a terrifying snarl, pointed teeth exposed to the air. Harry let off a muted scream, trying to hide the noise as best he could.

People may regale him with legends of being the only one to defeat Voldemort, but this…it scared him. He never saw it move, and yet it was everywhere, soulless glare boring into him from centimetres away, before an animalistic, feral-

Blink.

Harry had tried to turn, to run out the TARDIS. But now a stone hand was clamped around his wrist; he kept his eyes trained on it, afraid. The Angel was no longer snarling, though its normal, empty gaze was worrying enough. Icy cold fingers tightly, painfully clung to his wrist, the other hand, sharp talons frozen in a flex, just above it. In that gripped hand, he held the Philosopher's Stone.

One nervous, afraid, lightning-fast blink.

The hand descended, unseen, nails tightly around the bag, the clinking Philosopher's Stone. Talons dug into his palm. Harry watched, afraid, and the focused glare of the Angel.

What did a statue want with the Stone?

Blink

O

The Doctor sprinted as quick as he ever had, exhilarated by once again being able to run. It felt like his fitness had taken a permanent blow, by being cooped up in this castle.

No matter, forget the Sorting Hat's mysterious master, forget the source of the anomaly, forget whatever it was in Draco, forget the odd grey stone locked up in the dungeons, and even forget Harry's Sorting. The thrill of running, that was enough.

Then again, it would be nice to know what the hell was going on.

The Time Lord skidded to a stop as he entered the room in which Fluffy should be standing guard. The three-headed dog lay at the bag of the room, heads curled limply over titanic paws.

Someone had killed it.

"What have they done to you?" the Doctor crooned, running past the trapdoor, the empty room, "And more importantly, who?" he ran a hand down the soft hair on the limp, lifeless paw.

A creak filled the room.

The Doctor quickly span around, to see the trapdoor edge open. A student climbed out, one with familiar blonde hair.

"Draco!" the Doctor shouted.

The student turned around, pale skin, pale hair. He looked the same as always, and yet something was off. Frowning, the Doctor moved closer to the seemingly guilty Draco.

The Time Lord froze at just a step away.

He stared deep into the students eyes, and with that, he could not only see something which terrified him, but he could also see the quite-possible cause for everything that had happened. For in each black eyes, one thing was staring out; grey, yet bright. A Weeping Angel, arms at its sides, eyes soulless, watching.

That which holds the image of an Angel…

It had happened to Amy, and the Doctor hoped never to see a more advanced case, and yet it was here right now. Draco had looked into the eyes of a Weeping Angel; had the image burnt into his mind. And the Angel had been born, residing within the boy. Controlling Draco Malfoy.

The life had been lost oh so long ago, and he hadn't even known it.

"No…" the Doctor whispered, stepping back.

Draco blinked, the image of the Angel cleared away; and yet the Doctor had no illusions; it was there, just out of sight. Maybe it controlled the boy even now.

"Yes sir?" Draco tilted his head, almost innocent.

It may have been the Doctor's imagination, but was there something mocking in his tone?

"You should," the Doctor stopped, his voice failing. He tried again; and this time it came out stronger, "You shouldn't be here."

"Shouldn't I sir? Sorry," Draco nodded.

Was his voice still mocking? Or was it just the Doctor, thinking of the Angel which lurked in his mind?

"Tell you what," the Doctor gave a brief, shaky grin, "If you go back to your dormitory now, I won't tell anyone about this…incident, okay?"

"Thank you," Draco turned, quickly leaving.

Well, that was one problem dealt with. Cautious though, the Doctor pointed his wand, from his side, at the departing student. The temporal anomaly, the Weeping Angel, was still certainly present, but no great convergence of energy. Draco didn't have the Stone.

The Stone though? The Doctor paused, why the Philosopher's Stone? For why else would the Angel be here, it wasn't as if anyone knew he'd placed his TARDIS in the Mirror of Erised as the final defence; the box that could not be opened without a key.

The Doctor went pale; a key like he'd let Harry steal, in a vain effort to preserve the timeline. Even if Quirrell wasn't here, Voldemort could still be trying to enter. Or maybe not. Who knew? But still, the Angel wouldn't know the TARDIS was there: so the only explanation was, the Weeping Angel wanted the Philosopher's Stone.

And yet, even that made no sense: the Angels were immortal, they could not ever die, only fade, losing their image until they were-

Until they were an unrecognizable lumps of stone. Grey, coarse stone. Like the one found in the hall so early in the year. It was an ancient Weeping Angel; snot quite lifeless, but little more than a shell. Like Voldemort was at this instant; the vessel seeking the Elixir of Life from the Philosopher's Stone.

How many Angels now resided in Hogwarts? It couldn't be too many, else the weakened Angel wouldn't be found and taken so easily. So, two then: at the max. The injured one now locked up in the dungeons, and the living one who had been seen by Draco. And who may well rest in the final room, unable to look into the Mirror for fear of seeing itself and turning to stone eternally. A student would be needed to take the Stone from the Mirror.

But not Draco; he did not have it. Who then?

Harry! The thought hit the Doctor like a physical blow; the one student in the whole of Hogwarts with a key to the TARDIS. Where the Stone now rested.

Oh, you fool, Doctor!

A sudden creak, a thud. The Doctor span around, to see the trapdoor falling shut. Just out of it, he could see two impassive grey wings, attached to a fleeing, almost-flying Weeping Angel.

In one hand, a ruby-red stone glimmered.

The Weeping Angel had the Philosopher's Stone.

"Don't blink Doctor," he mumbled to himself, "Don't blink." Tentative, especially now, he hooked his fingers around the cold, rough stone, clasping the red gem from within the Angel's palm. And pulled.

It was stuck there; the petrified grip of the being firmly holding the Philosopher's Stone.

His eyes were starting to ache.

Quickly, the Doctor pulled back a little way, five or so metres, knowing he could not prise the Stone free. Afraid, he did the one thing forbidden to him, the one thing he had to do, and yet really, really should not do.

He, very quickly, blinked.

The Angel had moved three or so metres, crossing most of the distance to the door. It had ignored him; its quest to reach the other, imageless Angel apparently proving too important. But he really shouldn't allow that to happen: one Angel had done enough damage to Hogwarts' timeline, two… that could prove catastrophic.

The Doctor raised his wand, clicking the screwdriver and locking the door. A delay, nothing more. But until there was some other solution, what could he do?

The moonlight was all he had; the only thing keeping the Angel visible. That and a little starlight. Nothing else; a cloud would doom him.

Blink.

The Angel shot straight at the door, claw-like nails raking across the wood. Its arms now frozen, bent at the elbow, nails digging into the wood. It was trying to break through the door, talons and hands scratching and scraping through the thick materials. Face locked in a furious snarl.

The Doctor watched, eyes increasingly blurry, beginning to water. They needed to blink often in this dusty room, but the little chance he had, it gave him a lot less relief than he needed.

He was scared. Who wouldn't be? A temporal hotspot could be wrecked by one Angel for one day; this would release two over several years. The TARDIS might be able to expend a little power to sew up one hole in time. Any more than that…

Blink.

A stone arm thrust through the door, claw grasping for empty air. Other hand, flat palm, pressing against strained wood. As the Doctor watched, despite the fact it was stationary, the wood buckled and splintered, as if by force of will, much of the door breaking, shattering. Shards of wood clattered noisily onto the stone floor outside.

The Angel's face was a twisted smile, soulless eyes narrowed.

Blink.

The Angel was flying out the wreck of the door, hands outstretched, forwards and sideways, nails embedded in falling chips of wood. It was half way through the doorway, frantically tearing through; the shards of scratched wood were still falling all around it as the Doctor watched.

The Time Lord kept his distance, just in case the Angel was going to turn and touch him, force him back in time, or even kill him. With any other foe, he could read their face, predict their movements. With a Weeping Angel, he had impassive stone. Unreadable. Terrifying.

What was it thinking?

Blink.

The Angel left the room, a metre or so through the wood-strewn corridor. The Doctor stepped towards it, one more step. And-

Blink. Creak. Thud.

It had not moved. Not a step.

"Doctor?" a young child's voice murmured.

"Harry?" the Doctor frowned, not turning, eyes locked on the statue, but recognizing the voice, "I need you to do something."

"What?" Harry sounded curious

"Don't blink. Watch that statue, and don't even blink. It's only stone when you see it, and if you even blink, it will run."

"If you stay here, things will be easier."

"I know- but I'm sorry, I really am, so, so sorry. The Angel is heading for something else, a stone in the dungeons."

"Ok," Harry stepped in front of the Doctor, eyes focused on the Angel, picking up the urgency of the situation

"What happened down there anyway?" the Doctor muttered, blinking a couple of times, trusting Harry to keep his eyes open

"Not much. I was in a blue box, picked up the Philosopher's Stone, but that Angel stole it. It escaped and I followed. All the defences had stopped on the way out, even the Devil's Snare had gone; totally destroyed."

"Draco," the Doctor mumbled to himself, before his eyes momentarily flicked down to Harry. "Close your eyes now, `k?"

Harry obeyed. The Doctor circled the Angel, eyes unblinking. He stopped moving the other side of the statue, watching the glaring, still face, pursed lips.

"You feel up to keeping your eyes open now?" the Doctor shouted over to Harry.

"Y-yeah," the Boy Who Lived nodded.

"Good," the Doctor grinned, enjoying the new sudden thrill. "Do your best, and whatever you do, don't look at the eyes!"

And with that, the Doctor turned and sprinted down the winding corridors of Hogwarts, finishing his speech as he began to run, to the other Weeping Angel, the stone with the lost image.

O

The stone lay, as good as abandoned, in the dungeons of Hogwarts. Darkness swelled around it. Maybe it did move, if so, it was just an illusion. Barely anything more than a flick. As close to death as anything could possibly be, before moving on.

It had resided on a planet, one destroyed as the star it circled went nova. It hibernated in the vacuum of space, hoping another would search and find it. No rescue came, and it drifted on, frozen. It crashed after centuries of self-propulsion, on a planet inhabited by little more than intelligent ivy. Watching ivy; millions of eyes on it, an eternal glare.

It was unable go move until the plant-like race had become instinct. And by then, it was too sick to. Eroding over centuries; no food, no image. Until again, the planet faded. And from then, it found itself on Earth, where the Angel who had searched for millennia at last found her.

The Philosopher's Stone may well have been the only thing in the universe which could cure her. And so, they made their way here.

The Doctor burst into the dungeon, stopping over the ruined stone. The coarse lines still ran through it; and was that ash? It had evidently been through a lot.

Carefully, he raised his wand, focusing the screwdriver on it, kneeling d own.

He wasn't sure how much time he spent there. Hopefully Harry was delaying the Angel, following, staring. Giving the Time Lord more time here. He ran the sonic over the ex-Angel, feeling the lack of a temporal anomaly. It hadn't done anything then. Still, it radiated time energy. Definitely an Angel, now he thought of it. He wish he'd noticed earlier; and as such, took the opportunity to bang his head on the rock, irritated.

The door creaked open.

Instinctively, he leapt sideways, getting to his feet, as the floor where he just stood exploded. Tense, he span to face the door: Draco Malfoy, with Angel-possessed eyes, stood there, wand raised.

"Stop!" the Doctor raised his wand. Well, it wasn't a wand, but Draco didn't know that.

"Or what?" Draco's voice was colder now, a hint of a grating undertone. He raised his wand, muttering an incantation.

"I- uh- uh," the Doctor dithered for a moment, before clicking the sonic onto one of its many make-a-mess-of-things settings, and shouting "_Protego!_"

The bolt of red light from Draco's wand fizzled and died in mid air. The Doctor raised his eyebrows, impressed by the improvised 'spell'.

"_Stupefy!_" the spell wasn't Draco's. Instead, the blond fell to the floor, stunned.

The Doctor's eyes at last focused on more than the young Slytherin. The complete Weeping Angel, wings, hands, everything, stood by the wall, Stone in hand, above the dying Angel on the floor. Harry Potter had just entered the room, holding his wand loosely; he'd just stunned Draco.

What to do…what to do…

The Doctor stood beside a breathless Harry, the opposite side of the room to a stone Angel with the red gem, and another, wrecked Weeping Angel. An unconscious Malfoy lay between them.

"Do you trust me, Harry?" the Doctor whispered

"I really don't think I have a choice, sir," Harry mumbled, fiddling with the TARDIS key. Ever since stepping into that blue box, he felt different. Less Slytherin, more Gryffindor even.

The Doctor knew why: that was the TARDIS, the old girl, trying to repair Harry's timeline.

"Ok," the Time Lord looked across to the Angel, "We're going to close our eyes now, ok? Don't warp us, or whatever it is you do. I just want to talk."

Tentative, understandably nervous, yet obeying, Harry Potter shut his eyes. A split second after, breathing fast, the Doctor did also.

A moment's silence.

"_Speak_," the voice was low, deep, like stone dragging along stone. Grating.

"I can save you, and your, ah-" the Doctor paused

"_Wife_," the same, grating voice spoke

"Wife? Well, yes, ah, anyway, I can take you here, your own world; no intelligent life of course, just a few things to feed off the potential of. Just please, please, please stop hurting them here."

"_Why_?" the Weeping Angel spoke that one, long, grating word after a few seconds' of silence.

"Why?" the Doctor frowned," Why am I helping? Because I can, why else?"

Drip.

The Doctor opened his eyes suddenly, hearing the odd dripping of liquid. The Angel stood there with a large silver chalice, of something clearer, purer than water. The Philosopher's Stone rested within it; it was the Elixir of Life. The only thing which could resurrect the Angel below.

Unblinking, the Doctor paced forwards. "I trusted you," his voice was suddenly cold. He looked the Weeping Angel in the area just below the soulless eyes, before taking the silver chalice, yanking it with all his strength, and snapping the flimsy metal handle. The Elixir splashed onto the floor.

"_Conjunctivitis_!" there was a sudden shout. Draco's voice.

The spell made the Doctor wince, the skin around his eyes swelling up. It stung; but that wasn't his main worry. He couldn't see; his eyes had swelled shut.

"Harry!" he shouted, flailing around blindly, trusting the boy now had his eyes open by the fact the Angel had touched him yet. "Go! Take the Stone and run!"

Footsteps skittered along Hogwarts' stone floor. The Doctor smiled, hoping the Boy Who Lived could do something; it was in his hands now.

In Harry's head, two thoughts were prominent: get rid of the Stone! Somewhere they couldn't find it. The Great Lake maybe, or the Forest. Somewhere. And the flat object; the thing the Sorting Hat had given him. What was that?

Back in the room, the Doctor stopped moving, waiting for the swelling around his eyes to go down. But harbouring no illusions.

He felt the stone hand of the Weeping Angel grip him by the wrist.


	11. Time

**So, here it is, the finale to Changes. I hope you enjoy, everything was planned up to this moment. Review if you're enjoying it please: last chapter you'll get the chance to!  
I will be having nightmares about Weeping Angels for weeks... but if you're enjoying it, then I'm happy! **

Harry Potter sprinted through the corridors, Philosopher's Stone in hand. With Gryffindor bravery, but Slytherin care, he shot stunning curse after stunning curse back, hoping one would hit Draco, as well as a few spells to web up a path. Also from Lucius' book.

After one stretch, he was running backwards, not caring how much noise he made. This was bigger than the rules. The Angel could only run five metres per blink, generally, especially with all the webs Harry was throwing back. That was a good thing; harry could run ten or so, unblinking.

And Draco lay stunned, somewhere far back.

He felt a pang of guilt at that, but tried to focus. Where could he put the Stone?

In a fit of carelessness, he didn't care. On the route he'd taken from the dungeons, he was heading more towards the Great Lake than anywhere. He stood on the huge path, above a great drop to fields below; the path held up by crosses of wood, below it was a huge valley.

With a shout, he threw the Philosopher's Stone over the edge, watching the little red gem fall away. It was soon too low, too far way to be seen; and a blink later, the Angel was moving away from the student.

Now to go to the Slytherin rooms, to find the object the Sorting Hat had given him. That flat little thing had to be of some relevance, especially now. The Doctor was the only one who seemed to know what was going on: and he had gone. Harry had seen, with a glance back at the Angel as he fled from the room, the Doctor was no longer there.

He ran again to the common room. The Angel was fast; it would be on its way to the Stone, wherever it was in the valley below. And it would probably have trouble finding it in the dark, then again, maybe not. He knew nothing about those statues, except that they ran quickly when you didn't watch them.

And….it wasn't chasing him. That was good. Actually, that was great. It was so absorbed in its quest to save the other stone being, it only attacked those it had to; Harry apparently wasn't as much of a threat, and the Angel wanted to waste no time in finding the Stone. So, he was left alone. For now at least.

Panting, Harry Potter returned to the Slytherin Dormitories, surprising himself by feeling a pang of revulsion at the portrait. Ever since his journey into the blue box, he'd felt more and more as if this wasn't his House.

The small, damp corridor seemed strangely forbidding as he ran down it. You don't belong here. Still, the black haired boy pushed through the small trek, eventually reaching the silver and emerald dormitories where the Slytherin boys slept.

Walking quietly now, so as not to wake any of the slumbering students, Harry paced over to his bed.

It took a little effort to duck in under the green drape silently. A little more effort to close the curtain again, and a bit more to lift his small schoolbag up on top of the duvet.

Trying to mute his heavy breathing, Harry sat there for a minute or so, recovering. He felt isolated from the outside world in here; curtains blocking out noise, and some sound, probably via enchantment. Even Goyle's snoring was reduced to little more than a whisper.

Harry rummaged around his bag, before trying his robe pockets, trying to recall where he'd left the Sorting Hat's gift.

He found it eventually. Relieved, panting, he ran his fingers over it, in the dark. It was very flat; as he knew already, thin, round. And…was that a scrap of parchment, stuck to the side? It felt like it.

He needed to know more. Which meant a small risk.

In scarcely a whisper, Harry raised his wand to just above the disc, and spoke a spell: "_Lumos._"

The resultant light was dim, yet made Harry uncomfortable. He didn't want people to see him. But it was necessary; he sighed, resigned, before peering again at the now-lit gift.

It was a disc.

A Muggle would probably call it a CD, and raised by Muggles as he was, CD was Harry's first thought. Still confused, Harry moved the wand closer to the parchment, taped to the top of the disc.

_Take to blue box._

The note was hastily scrawled in blue ink. Harry frowned; there again?

Resigned, but tentative, Harry slowly, once again, slipped out of the dormitory.

O

Light.

There was light. Good start, always a good start. The Doctor quickly bounced up, patting himself down, while simultaneously looking around.

He was in a room, bright, dulled yellow bricks for walls; roughly circular. Kind of like where he'd been when- when-

"Angel!" he shouted, jumping in the air and giving a small whoop.

He survived then. No complaints.

The Weeping Angel thought he was just another human! Any other time he'd have been insulted. But for then, he wasn't complaining, the Angel had just sent him back in time, to try and feed of his temporal energy. And to get him out the way.

But he was still stuck. He didn't fancy waiting a few hundred years.

Presumably, the Angel was also responsible for 'The Lost', the children in the early years of Hogwarts. Students stolen from the future, displaced all the way back there. To-

The time of the Founders!

The Doctor grinned giddily again, before running out of the dungeons. He needed to go to…

Headmaster's Office! Always a good place to start. Take me to your leader.

Panting, the Doctor quickly arrived at the gargoyle.

"Ah," he swayed on the spot, "Now, this isn't good. I don't know the password…at least, not the current one."

"An old one will do," the statue croaked. The Doctor jumped

"Never had a good experience with talking statues," he mumbled, "Um," he spoke up, looking at the gargoyle, "How about a future one?"

"Future?" a jolly, booming voice sounded beside him. The Doctor looked around, to see a proud looking man, with a long, curly red beard, and similarly long red hair. He was wearing a striking crimson robe, and kept a silver sword to his side.

Behind him, eight scared looking students, First years, stood. One was recognizable: the Doctor nodded to himself, having a theory confirmed. That was Ron Weasley.

"Blimey, you do look like Rupert huh," the Doctor muttered to himself, watching the boy, before turning back to the crimson man in front of them, "And you must be Godric Gryffindor," he grinned, shaking the giant man's hand energetically.

"And you are?" Gryffindor spoke, forceful yet respectful

"Oh, I'm the Doctor, don't mind me, I'm from the future," his voice trailed off, frowning, "Actually, do mind me, that's kind of important isn't it?"

"Today, Doctor, it would not surprise me. All these youths have been found today with tales of the future of this School. Thought I must say, you are the first adult to be encountered."

"The Angel only goes after weak prey," the Doctor mumbled, hating the words, "But enough about me! This is Hogwarts huh? The early years- no, wait, not important right now," he blinked, "Rather…" the Doctor paused, "Can I borrow your hat?"

"You are a most peculiar man," Gryffindor commented,

"I try," the Doctor said modestly, acting embarrassed.

Godric Gryffindor walked past the Time Lord, speaking an unheard password and making the gargoyle allow the access. The Doctor, the Founder, and the eight students entered together, ascending to the ancient Headmaster's Office.

With a wave of an imposing wand, a sleek, black hat was summoned from the other side of the Office.

"My hat, Doctor," Gryffindor spoke, keeping it hovering with his wand. "In exchange, could you tell me the what and why and where and when?"

"In a sec, I just need to…" the Doctor let his voice trail away, reaching into his pocket. He took out just one thing; a TARDIS Emergency Control disc, like the one he had given to Sally Sparrow in another adventure involving Weeping Angels.

Rushing, his eyes darted around the Office, before he ran over to one desk, ripped a bit of parchment off it and, using a borrowed quill, wrote a quick note on it. He taped the parchment to the disc.

"Thank you," the Doctor nodded, voice little more than a breath. He scooped the hat away and turned away from the amused Founder, and the eight, lost children.

"Now, I need you to listen," the Doctor whispered urgently to the Sorting Hat of so long ago.

This much he had read in the book; to Sort after the Founders had gone, Gryffindor whipped off his hat, and cast a spell on it. Gryffindor's Hat would Sort: and so, this Hat was the one real constant to Hogwarts. The way to get a message from here to there. In the future, the Hat had told him as much; to ignore the tick of time. As it had sang, to watch from end to start to middle.

Things had started at the end; the Angels at Hogwarts. Now, he was at the start; the Founding. Next, he should go to some point during that.

Actually, the best way to do it would probably be to neutralize any interference from the Angel. Blank out the anomaly completely. It would require a little more thought, but that was neither here nor there, right now.

"Speak," the Hat spoke in the jolly tones of Godric Gryffindor. Odd. Maybe the voice decayed over time; the Doctor shrugged.

"I need you to do something," the Doctor whispered, "Years from now, you'll be Sorting everyone. There'll be a boy you won't be sure about; his name is Harry Potter. _Sort him into Slytherin._ And do that the second time they ask you to Sort him, it will happen, trust me. And that second time, give him this." The Doctor finished whispering, and raised the disc up and inside the Hat.

It was the easiest thing to do; the mistaken Sorting would keep his younger self at Hogwarts, a sign something was wrong. And in theory, it would create a friendship with Draco, which would lead to them finding the Stone, and alerting himself of the Angel.

Things were not done though; with that message delivered, Harry would receive the disc at some point in the future, which he'd just telepathically programmed to take the TARDIS to this office, in about a minute. But something was still wrong with Harry.

The incorrect Sorting, according to the Hat, was only purposefully done the second time. The student had changed, unsurprising with the temporal flux. But something had to be wrong the first time; something had to give him the tendency for Slytherin.

_I can make them hurt._

Harry's words, heard so long ago, carried into the Doctor's mind. He'd heard the same words, with the same tone, but only in books, in films…

Tom Riddle. The words, the actions of Lord Voldemort himself.

The Doctor shook as he handed the Hat back to Gryffindor. His mind was whirling; the Angel could have easily done it, with their habit of feeding on energy. Interference yet again. They'd amplified the fragment of Voldemort forced into Harry's mind upon the fabled, failed killing curse.

It scared him to think how long the plan had been in motion: back when Harry was just a baby, an Angel had been there. Had witnessed the green flash, unmoved and glaring. And, as it backfired, fed off the energy, taking in the echo of the dying Voldemort, and forcing it into Harry. More of it at least. It explained the Slytherin tendencies oh so well; rectified only by the TARDIS, in her ever-faithful attempt to preserve the timelines.

He left those dismal thoughts as the groaning of the TARDIS engines filled the room.

Within the impossible blue box, Harry Potter held on tightly, grinning and screaming and laughing, as the disc shone ever-brighter in his pocket.

O

All the students had been returned to their rightful location. The TARDIS scanners registered a decrease in the temporal anomaly.

Luna Lovegood had simply vanished, and the students could never recall her. Put back in her rightful place in time.

Harry had been left just outside the Slytherin dormitories, though the Doctor didn't think that would be necessary now. With any luck, the whole fiasco involving the Hogwarts Angel would be removed from history, never having happened. That was the best way to fix the anomaly. Indeed, it was the only real way to fix an anomaly in such a place as Hogwarts.

But still, there were things to do…

O

It was a snowy night.

Two things, both at home in the darkness, glided through. One was a feared Dark Lord, skin sallow and pale, robes streaming behind his skeletal frame as he moved in for murder.

The other was stone, yet no less menacing. He had one he cared for deeply; and would kill to help her. And he had done.

He knew of the Philosopher's Stone, and how years would pass until it would be accessible. He had read it, a book carried with a temporal exile, possibly one he had sent to himself.

It did not matter. All that mattered was her, and the future in which he would save her, by means of that magical Stone. And to do that, allies were needed. And who better, than the Boy Who Lived, turned to darkness. Breaking the rules; finding the Stone that much faster.

He did not want to wait a second more. And yet he had to wait years.

The Dark Lord drew closer to the dwelling, which housed the baby wizard. And soon-

Stone. The Angel felt the unblinking eyes, the unblinking gaze of a distant figure. The Weeping Angel was beheld; the Weeping Angel was stone. No more, and no less.

He watched. A green flash flared out from the house, yet the Angel could do nothing. He watched the curses, and heard a man's shout, a woman's scream, and then a bestial screech of agony, by one who could scarcely be called a man.

The gaze left him. But, as the Angel turned, the watcher had gone. All he saw instead, was the outline of a fading, wheezing box.

O

Time was being fixed. A word more to the Hat, and the Doctor was assured Harry would instead go to Gryffindor. All the temporal mucking about was hurting his head; and yet, for once, he was doing good with it, preventing the anomaly.

But still, while the castle was the same as ever on the surface, the Doctor knew there was still one irregularity, one thing disrupting the timeline. And it was for that, the Doctor had asked to borrow one, exceedingly rare, artefact from Godric Gryffindor.

The Weeping Angel resided still, deep within the belly of the castle.

Right now, the Doctor was no longer considered a teacher; that had been fixed, and Quirrell had taken his place. So no wandering around above.

The TARDIS materialized straight into the chamber, within which the Mirror of Erised stood. In front of the reflective glass, the imageless wreck rested. Further in front, now facing the Doctor, the fully formed, adult Weeping Angel glared.

Confident, the Doctor strode out of the TARDIS, watching the two, unblinking, and being sure to keep his glare away from their eyes.

"Now, you two," he began, "I know hat you're planning, and I know what you'll end up doing. But I can't let you do that here, Hogwarts is crucial to Planet Earth. So I'm asking you, stop this, go somewhere else. I can even help if I have to."

He paused.

"But if you don't, I'll have to stop you," he eventually concluded, swinging up a long, silver gift from Godric Gryffindor. One he'd probably have to return at some point.

The Sword of Godric Gryffindor.

Goblin made; it took in that which made it stronger. That fact seemed to be of little relevance, but for an Angel, it was anything but.

"What do you say?" the Doctor asked, smiling a little, as if at a casino. As if it was all one big game.

He closed his eyes.

Tick tock. The seconds moved by. And then he opened his eyes.

The Angel snarled, teeth bared, soulless eyes contorted to a face of fury. One hand, with all of its talons sharpened to a point, pressed against the Doctor's chest.

It was trying to move him through time; an exile, especially if he went a long way back, completely out of the way. But right now, that wouldn't work. The temporal energy needed to transport him was all being redirected, and absorbed by the one thing there which wanted it the most, hungrily taken in. The Sword. The energy would make it stronger; a simple concept. And so, it stole it.

The Doctor released the Sword, moving back one careful step. Blink. The Angel was still: the Sword had continued to drain the energy, now it knew the source, and had drained it from the stone statue itself. But the Weeping Angel needed that energy; it was its lifeblood. Hence why it fed on echoes in time, taking in that energy.

Now the Sword had it all, and the stone, was just that; a stone. Lifeless.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispered, genuinely meaning it, before snatching the sword away, and moving back to the TARDIS.

The Weeping Angel crumbled.

The dying, ruined Angel continued to lie in front of the mirror.

O

Albus Dumbledore looked up, surprised to hear a new noise start up in his office. As the old wizard watched, a blue box materialized, sending the papers around it blowing everywhere.

The box stood there, almost imposing, before it slowly creaked open.

"Hiya!" a man, with tousled brown hair and a broad grin, stepped out.

"Who are you?" Dumbledore said slowly, putting down his quill and looking up.

"Oh, well," the stranger stopped, abashed, and scratched the back of his head, "That could take a while to explain. Do you mind just stepping in here? TARDIS has a memory you see, give you back the memories of the other timeline. For a bit at least. You know, never mind, come on," the man gestured hurriedly, before a smile gently lit up his face, "Plus, I've got a friend who really wants to meet you.

O

Amy put her phone down, irritated. The Doctor had better not leave her waiting two years again, she wasn't even sure what planet she was on! It looked like Earth to begin with, but then the Sun reached its peak, and the sky turned green.

"How long's he gonna be?" Rory groaned, stretching back, sunbathing

"No idea," Amy shrugged, plonking herself down beside her husband.

She was about to say something else, when a familiar groaning filled the air. She and Rory both stood up quickly, looking towards the slowly appearing TARDIS.

The door opened, and the Doctor softly walked out. "Look, I know you wanted to come with me, and I know you couldn't. So I thought I'd make up for it," he grinned like a child.

Amazed, Albus Dumbledore slowly moved out of the TARDIS, confused, before his expression settled down upon seeing the two humans.

"Hello," the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry spoke, "I believe you've heard of me?"

O

That which holds the image of an Angle becomes itself an Angel.

The eternal law held true. And so, seconds after the time machine had departed, a figure appeared within the Mirror of Erised. An Angel's reflection.

He looked down upon his dying wife, the ruined stone.

He had died; irredeemably. His image would be erased from the Mirror as soon as his wife was no longer in front of it; for then she would no longer be seeing him.

The Angel would help; for he was, for these few seconds, the mirror itself.

A tarnished representation of the Weeping Angel, a shadow, was cast into the air, smiling.

In one hand, an echo of the Philosopher's Stone rested.

Concentration.

A trickle of the precious Elixir of Life trickled over the translucent stone, splashing onto his wife.

The injured Weeping Angel gradually eroded, excess stone simply melting away. And soon, a new, pristine, winged Weeping Angel of perfect stone stood in its place.

She looked at her husband, immeasurable sadness in her blank eyes.

The reflection in the Mirror vanished.

Alone, the healed Weeping Angel stood still for brief seconds.

Blink.

Emptiness.


End file.
